Rescue
by hippiechick2112
Summary: Part three of "Her Second Chance", narrated by Colonel Michalovich. As Hogan is scheduled for a Gestapo execution, Colonel Michalovich and the prisoners must try to save him and reinstate Klink as their Kommandant.
1. December 14, 1943

**Her Second Chance: Rescue**

**Note and Disclaimer:**** I'll be saying this every time. I don't own the characters to ****Hogan's Heroes**** nor do I own any of the songs I have posted. I would like to thank those who have created this series and those who have written these great songs. However, the character I have created, Colonel Michalovich, belongs to me, so if you want to use her, please email me with permission.**

**This is part three of the story of the female spy Colonel Michalovich. There are two other parts previous, so please read them before you read this one, for I continue the story as I leave off and I do warn: you will get lost if you try to read this and not the others beforehand. However, I do intend to continue this character's story until the end of the war, so I have no idea how many stories I'll have. I do have many ideas about segments for upcoming ones. This one, however, has to be one of the most difficult to write because not only has this character have to deal with loss and sacrifice (back to the horrors she faced earlier, so briefly), but has to now command the men of Stalag 13. Enjoy!**

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**Journal of Colonel Nikola Anna Michalovich, U.S. Army: LC8547960  
****December 14, 1943  
****Hammelburg, Germany: Luftstalag 13, the Tunnels – 0130 Hours**

_Late in the summer when the cottonwood dies  
And the fields are on fire with green bottleflies  
I'm still seeing reflections of me in your eyes  
And why did you leave last summer?_

_Now, the seasons are changing from summer to fall  
And I've still got that picture hung on my wall  
And there's so much forgotten and too much recalled  
And why did you leave at all…?_

_Standing beside you mid-winter day  
Hearts beating close together  
Wishing that we'd found some way  
To make that moment last forever…_

_Standing silent, laughing breathing steam  
Gazing down into a freezing stream  
I saw the face of a child  
I saw the face of a child…_

I can't believe that, for the past few months, I haven't been able to write.

It has been too long since I've been down here in the infamous Stalag 13 tunnels as well. Since the middle of September, the Gestapo has been investigating everything that has happened since my arrival to the spying ring and are still searching for the answers into the sabotage of the rocket base and bombing of General Hozellenan's home outside of Hammelburg. Their analysis of the situations have had them snooping around here, since we are the center of it all, and this center of activity has been their home. They have taken over Stalag 13, having no wish of removing themselves as the Luftwaffe Generals have ordered, and have Klink under their thumb as we prisoners are under their fists.

Hochstetter has been here every day (he practically _lives_ here) interrogating me and Rob. He's threatened torture and death and even bribed us for information. It was to no avail. No torture of any kind could have blurted out all of the secrets we share with each other and with the company of men that roam this camp. We cannot do it.

Every evening afterward, we all try to pull ourselves together and force ourselves to face another day of tense interrogation. It was worse that Hochstetter tried to torment some of the other men in the cooler for information, also with nothing to tell him. I was appalled when LeBeau, Amos, Wilson and Carter came back bruised and silent (even LeBeau had no spirit to fight anymore). Newkirk, Kearns, and Kinch were next within the hour and they all came back worse than ever before.

Yesterday, how it seemed so _long _ago, Rob was sneaking around in the tunnels, amazingly enough with the security here, and I saw him write that poem this journal as I quietly sat at the ladder. The journal was something I've kept here to hide from the guards that daily search our quarters. And that day, the Gestapo had a time in the town and the guards were low in count (amazingly enough), so I understood why he was there, but not why he wrote it. To me, though, it is all over and the poem means nothing to me.

Fear has been installed into the hearts of the prisoners and there has been no hope of escape (the guards have been _tripled_) or of being alive for after the war. Our operation has been shut down on Rob's orders and the radio turned off by Kinch since the Gestapo came in with a transmitter that minutely checks for any signals. The Underground units have been notified beforehand and are working on their own terms and resources, which have been very little without us. London has been limping along with this operation down, and with this new Christmas Offensive, we could have the war bagged by the next year. Instead, the Gestapo has ruined us.

Worst of all…Hochstetter had Rob arrested and jailed in the cooler only a few hours ago.

I tremble to even write this.

A few hours ago, only _yesterday_ Rob came up from the tunnels, it seemed like a normal night, for regular prisoners of war anyway. It was only twelve more days until Christmas and the men, whose spirits would have been raised by the joyous holiday season, sat and moped around the barracks because we were all trapped in a barren wasteland without the freedom to even _move_. There have been no letters from home, no Red Cross packages and not even any fun activities to do since it has been cold and snowy and the Gestapo interrogations more and more overwrought. The snow storms outside had been swarming around for a few days and roll calls have been bitter indeed. To me, it has been another year in captivity and another year to look forward to, if I ever dare to expect on seeing it with Rob…or anyone else for that matter. The night of December 5-6 (I believe it was that night) marks the year in which the Third Reich has kept me from my fulltime Allied duties, slim as they are now.

Then, only then, it was only 1800 hours thereabouts, an hour before the lights had to go out. Klink was in too foul a mood as of late to let us have the lights on longer and the Gestapo is strict about letting us have the lights. They enforce regulations – and more – to the letter, sadly. Rob has not made any trips to the Kommandant's office to complain about the conditions here. Hochstetter controls Stalag 13 and his squads of goons picket our barracks by the hour. If we try to come out of the barracks for _anything_, there is always a guard with a gun on our backs, especially at roll calls. It seems that the endless amount of men here have been transported from the Russian Front, only to satisfy Hochstetter's schemes. Indeed, foot soldiers from there could have transferred to the Gestapo.

Roll call, in this way, as been agony for everyone as well. They come into the barracks, those guards, and hustle everyone out and our lives seemed to be measured by how quick we are in getting out to be counted. The slower we are, the more punishment we receive: no food for the day, more men taken into the cooler…whatever Hochstetter wants and feels like doing for that day. So far, all barracks fallout at a record of twenty seconds and then ten to get back into the barracks. It is freezing cold and at least three men have died because of the cold. It is worse that Schultz doesn't even watch our barracks anymore (he tries to) for he goes where Hochstetter orders him to go. All Gestapo guards watch us now.

I am disgusted further by this treatment…once a guard shot a prisoner (it appeared to be an accident, according to the Gestapo). The man, whose name was Private Jerkins, had died before Rob and I were informed of the incident (we were out with Hochstetter that time). There was not a single memorial service for the man, no funeral and most certainly, no burial or even a letter or his dogtags sent home to his family. Anyone who had done so would be punished severely, and that could mean a number of different things, like I have mentioned. All that was ordered was that the body be buried in the back of the Kantine, the blood to be washed away from the barracks floors and that nobody speaks of it again.

Anyhow (I am trembling to write this worse, for I have gone off-topic for too long) Rob and I were sitting in the barracks with the other men, talking and laughing about our previous holidays before the war. Carter had been describing what it had been like in the Midwest with his eggnog and woman then, Mary Jane (something about him not being in the army, too – Uncle Sam needing him?). Kinch talked of ice skating and some women he knew. Newkirk fixated himself on the pretty ladies only. And LeBeau was all about the fabulous food and, to no one's surprise, the French women in Paris (too many men here have seen too little women except for me, sometimes Linkmeyer and those secretaries of Klink's, who are, by the way, very nice but also not here anymore because of the Gestapo and have, so far, refused to come back).

Rob and I laughed about our vacations from the military, wearing civilian clothing and taking walks in the slushy parks of Bridgeport, and once recording Christmas dinner with his family. Thomas had been alive then and was happy to have me around for a change. Jerry was growing up to be a pain in the ass to us all (him and his baseball obsession, all in thanks to Rob). Christopher was around for once, too, and not in school in Arizona. Jimi had taken Jeanette over here for the first time, before he asked for her hand in marriage. Ted had taken time off of school in California and was almost forbidden to bring Rose, for Thomas was still angry about his marriage and Sally was the only one to persuade him otherwise. Even Sally, who had been a second mother to me for years, welcomed me with open arms and comforted me as Father left for Russia with his compatriots of the Socialist government.

All and all, like I said, it was a normal evening for prisoners of war. There was no talk of plans to sabotage the German war effort, nothing about our tunnels and radio and absolutely nothing about talking to London and asking what they needed done. It was just a talk of civilian life, the happiest days of our lives and of life here at Stalag 13 without the people we love the most besides us (which is women, and even family, for all of them). I felt my heart break with these stories being told, for it is almost seems like years since I've seen Father, happy and always with that wry smile of his before this war destroyed him and then sent him back to active duty.

Nobody was watching the door as we usually do for there was nothing to hide from our former guard Schultz (he comes in here at night to warn us of something like bedchecks or any unusual events and usually, he is caught by the Gestapo, but has the same excuses of checking the barracks every time or that he knows nothing) or even the Gestapo. The tunnels have been blocked and are ready to blow up, with a flick of a switch, just in case something happens, all on Rob's orders. I cried on that brittle October day when Carter was wiring the tunnels with explosives, about three and a half weeks after Hochstetter came along with his assailants. Our part in this world feels as if it was over and Carter was wiring it tighter and tighter, gripping my heart with its epilogue.

Afterward, there was a meeting in our barracks and messages brought to those men who couldn't make the meeting, which were quite a few men because the "disappearing" of men had started. Rob then gave the order that in case that if he is captured, the men, myself included if I can, are to evacuate the barracks, flee through the emergency exits and then blow up the tunnels.

I thought that I would have to have killed myself first, for I will stick with Rob to the very end. I told Rob that the same day in October when he gave the order. Rob replied, "Nikki, I can't afford to lose you again. Life can go on without me and there are others to marry." I knew it wouldn't be the same for me _ever_ again without him.

I know that Rob was serious and he didn't want me to be unhappy for the rest of my life, but to move on and create a happy ending for myself in the States. You know, I can almost forget the last time he tried to joke around since I came here (rare is the same he jests now). We have to survive this war together, no matter what the cost. It is like the marriage vow: till death do us part. And it will never part us, for I _will_ not follow through to the States without Rob. Without him, there is no life for me, but the family back there that reminds me more and more of the times of the past I _want_ to forget.

About the time the lights went out (it was 1850 hours already) us prisoners stopped our chatting simultaneously. There was a loud noise, a shot almost, outside of our doors and it was pretty damned close, too. Then there were dogs hollering and the sound of guards marching this way. We knew that it meant trouble.

The barracks door was pushed open brutally and the usual Gestapo guards flooded our barracks. All had guns in their hands and were not afraid to use them against us (illogical, really, since we're not armed). Most of these guard consisted of the children guards here that have turned to the Gestapo for greater glory. Originally, we had them here because Klink needed more guards. Now, they are transferred to the Gestapo and are using it as an excuse to be brutal.

All the prisoners rose from their bunks or seats and put their hands in the air, Rob and I included. We were still trying to wipe the smiles from our faces and act somber (we can't afford to agitate the Gestapo any further, so it would be best to do as they pleased and submit to their authority). Rob and I also, in the meantime, avoided any glances to each other that would incriminate us further to Hochstetter. All gestures of familiarity will kill us both, so I knew sitting next to each other at a table is risky enough.

Within this crowd of sentries came our cowardly Kommandant Klink, Schultz and Major Hochstetter. At the sight of Hochstetter my neck prickled, a sure sign of danger and impending disaster. I may ignore it half the time, but I knew, within an instant, that we were in for a disaster.

Hochstetter looked victorious like he was a little boy awarded for his good behavior. Indeed he was going to nab something he has been waiting to snatch from the high shelf that he could never reach until now. Klink and Schultz came in behind him and they looked miserable, another sign that something was going on because those two are _never_ around when Hochstetter wants something, especially if that something was going to be achieved that moment. Klink was especially depressed. His camp had been taken over by the Gestapo. What more can he do about it? Klink can't even control who was going to be arrested or even killed even though he outranks Hochstetter. Schultz…well, Schultz cannot stand killing and has no authority in this camp. There was no more protection.

As always, Hochstetter got to the point and very quickly. "Colonel Hogan, come forward," he said, then savoring the moment that he'd been waiting for, the time in which he finally caught up with our organization. My neck was prickling more and the impulse to pull Rob away and run off had to be snuffed out. There was no way out of this mess. My thoughts raced as Rob got up from his seat next to me and moved forward.

Once away from the table, two guards of Hochstetter's grabbed him. Hochstetter grinned and continued. "Colonel Hogan, on the orders of the Gestapo, and indeed is this my pleasure, that you be arrested for espionage against the Third Reich. You will be held in the cooler of Stalag 13, transferred to Gestapo Headquarters twelve days hence and shot as a spy. As soon as I can incriminate your men and Colonel Michalovich here, they will be shot along with you on the same day."

Rob was hiding back his fear, I can tell. _Shot on Christmas Day, though?_ I bit my lip back to keep myself from crying out, a womanly stereotype I've tried to avoid at all times. I was amazed though, without this crying out. It wouldn't help, most certainly, and it won't accomplish anything.

Always the one to joke around in the face of danger, Rob stood up to Hochstetter with those goons holding him, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Major, it'll be my privilege as well. Can I bring my spoon? It'll come in handy for my escape from Stalag 13." I could tell he was trying to be silly and sarcastic, as he sometimes gets, and I almost laughed, but kept it back as I did with my expressions of grief. The mood of the moment was too serious. And undeniably, it was frightening that for this comment, a guard hit Rob in the back and the face, dropping him to the floor of the barracks (more like being purposely _thrown_). He was bleeding at the mouth.

I was really fighting my first reaction of helping him instead of laughing at his response at such a grave situation. All the men afterward, I could tell, had to clash back the rage they felt and the impulse to beat this team of Gestapo away from our senior officer. But then, it won't help them.

"Take this man to the cooler!" Hochstetter yelled in disgust. "He'll be interrogated more tomorrow. We will make him _crack_!" I cringed to think about what they could do to Rob and kept my eyes on him.

The two guards that came through the doorway cruelly picked up Rob from the floor and dragged him along with them, leaving a bloody trail in the barracks and outside. The rest of the guards, guns in their hands still, marched out behind them, confident that they have last seen the end of Papa Bear. The prisoners then saw everyone leave until only Klink and Schultz remained, two comrades that somehow stick together no matter what. The prisoners then lowered their hands and all stared at me or the door (I felt their eyes glaze over me and it was grim). They didn't even notice that Schultz closed the door of the barracks and stood by our pathetic stove with Klink, who had moved there to warm his hands by the weak fire. Both of them appeared frightened by this episode, but never will they experience the chill of winter the same way as I was right now. _Rob is gone. He's to be executed as a spy…we could all be next…what is going to happen next? What am I going to do with these men?_

The room was silent for a while, until Klink broke the silence, the lone, echoing voice in what seemed to be an empty room. "Colonel Michalovich, you are now senior P.O.W. officer in this camp. As ranking officer of the prisoners in this camp…I and General Burkhalter ask that you attend a special meeting with us tomorrow night in his office in Berlin. We need to talk of grave matters and of your activities here at camp. A minor examination, if you want to call it that."

I couldn't believe my ears. Klink was asking me to a meeting with Burkhalter tomorrow night and was being serious about it? There was to be a _meeting_ after this arrest? What did they want? More importantly, can they get Rob out of Hochstetter's hands and back into this camp again, or better, free? _Are_ their thoughts on even _that_ or the camp? My answer would depend on it. We could follow Rob's orders and we might all escape alive and leave Rob or at least see what's going on and try to rescue him and this operation, while keeping everyone alive. It was my decision.

"Kommandant, I am flattered and accept this invitation," I replied. "How would we get out, though?" My lips had a difficult time moving with the motion of words.

"Leave it all to me," Klink answered. He wasn't giving me any confidence because of who he is and what he can blunder.

Klink had achieved what he had wanted. So, he then elbowed Schultz suddenly and very rudely, the guard, of course, trying to push his way to the warmth. Klink motioned with some eagerness for him to leave along with him and they left. The cold that came in earlier has never been erased from my heart.

The room, true to my feelings, was still quiet as a graveyard when the pair left. Again, it was broken by a lone voice: LeBeau's. "Colonel…what are the orders?" There were no microphones around, we got them all debugged and always found the others posted by the Gestapo and so it was free to speak as we wished.

I turned to face that dear, mortified expression of LeBeau's. I was dubious what we should do. _Should_ we all follow orders and escape as Rob wanted or stay and see what happens? I thought quickly before giving my answer. Klink and Burkhalter were obviously planning something, so this _might_ work to our benefit. "I want everybody, and pass this along to all the other barracks, to start to pack and leave some things out. We don't want the Gestapo to become suspicious or have any more proof that we did anything, especially now. I'll go with Klink tomorrow night and see what he and the General want. This might or might not work to our advantage. I don't know yet, but I think that they might want some help in getting the Gestapo out of here. This wouldn't be the first time."

I stopped and paused, searching each prisoner's face for some sort of comfort, but finding none because they all needed it from me…and that reassurance, too. All, including Rob's crew of four, were nervous and wringing their hands. They all positioned themselves in attention for me. Then there was a sudden movement. Kinch got up from his seat and asked, "Colonel, is there anything that we can do right now? Is there any way we can help you at all?"

I gulped audibly. I was a nervous wreck (and still am) and replied, "Just stand by my orders and we'll see, depending on what Klink and Burkhalter want, what we'll do afterward. But, I promise you, as commanding officer here, that I'll do my best to keep everyone in line and…that everyone comes out of this alive and well. I can't keep any solid promises, but I'll try to get Colonel Hogan out, too. Have a good night, everyone." I tried to go back to Rob's quarters, my quarters now, but I found that I couldn't. I was so cold and my knees were shaking hard. I felt myself collapse to the floor of the barracks, frightened by this event and unable to move. I was in pain from my wounds and my neck was uneasy.

"Gov'ness!" "Colonel!" "Kommandant!" was all I heard before I let myself plunge to the floor and fall into my emotions, a deep, stabbing throb I never knew I had. I sobbed harder than I ever have before in my life and I never knew I had in me until I started. I was so scared at that point that it didn't that fifteen other men were looking to me for guidance, and already finding none. And all that pain still enveloped me.

I was held onto for a long time.

After everyone went to bed, still silent and worried about Rob, I snuck down to the tunnels. I knew it was safe at that time, for the guards usually tried to sneak out into town themselves even though they were suppose to watching us. Kinch was already down there, against Rob's orders, and was making sure that all the explosives are still in place and ready to detonate when the need arises. We still only have a few minutes before our bedcheck by the time we were done checking, so this might be done now or later, when we get out of here. It's better to make sure now than later, as I say. The quicker it is done, the quicker and easier we can get out, if necessary. _It has to be with or without Rob_, I thought as I verified that the last explosive was ready and in place. I just wished that it was the former.


	2. An Evening with Burkhalter and Klink

**December 16  
****The Colonel's Quarters – 2450 Hours**

The evening with Burkhalter and Klink was an underhanded one and there was such a racket in getting there and back. It gave me some hope, though, and my thoughts that they wanted the Stalag 13 camp back were true and sincere. However, I still tremble as I write though, for this is treason and espionage on all sides of the bargain, and to be found out would mean the noose or the firing squad for all of us, even the General himself. And it doesn't matter to them if those prisoners not involved are shot: just as long as we are all gone and cannot say a word against them, then they are fine.

It was during the early evening that Klink told Hochstetter that I was to be interrogated by him and Burkhalter in Berlin in several sessions. For some reason, Hochstetter consented but was dubious about it, thinking that it was a plot to discredit him or the government, and naturally, he wanted information, for a price, from me. I think Klink might have had written orders from Burkhalter, for Hochstetter called me from our stricter formation to Klink's office after roll call at 1800 hours this night.

There were loud protests from the men, however, that almost killed the plans. I saw that many of the guards were pointing their rifles in their directions. I didn't need any of the men killed nor did I need any more blood on my hands. I turned around after I was called by Hochstetter and gave them my worst look (it is the one that even makes Rob wither and shrivel away from me) and that one look from me silenced them all. They all know that I will release my temper if they continued or have me and everyone else suffer as someone gets killed for foolishness. I can't afford this.

Schultz, who was ordered by Hochstetter's second man, Captain Güther of the Gestapo (another beast I wish to see out of here), to dismiss the men as soon as the other Gestapo children were satisfied that we were all here, escorted me to Klink's office where Major Hochstetter was seated, heat fully on in the room, the windows closed from the cold and no Kommandant in sight. Klink had, apparently, cowered in some corner someplace for his camp has been taken over, after all. _Where else can that coward crawl to?_ I was also wondering what was going on when Schultz turned around and slammed the door – he had been dismissed by Hochstetter – and Hochstetter cleared his throat to grab my attention.

"Ah, Colonel Michalovich, you're here for a change," Hochstetter began nicely, looking up from his paperwork. My neck began to prickle with fear. _What did he want this time?_ He was trying to make a point with this and when he starts out this sweet, there's something up. Hochstetter, like I always said, got to the point.

The Gestapo Major got up from his chair and walked towards me, still in his kind and polite demeanor. "Colonel, I've had orders from Klink that he was to take you to Berlin for questioning. His orders came from General Burkhalter."

"What about it, Major? I wasn't informed of this." I tried to stay as calm and casual as possible, but with my neck prickling incessantly, I was boiling and being perfectly stoic as I usually am with Hochstetter. It was hard. I decided to play with him for a while and make myself innocent of all of this and lie through my teeth, for I knew that if Hochstetter knew of the true nature of the meeting, we're all doomed. I can almost hear Rob's voice in my head: _Play it by ear, Nikki. Don't rush into everything. You're so flighty that you never see the danger ahead sometimes, but run into it without seeing. You know how to play with men. Use it and that's an order._ An order I had to follow, to the letter, even to the end.

"Ah," Hochstetter continued as he walked back to the desk, standing behind the chair, "so, are you saying that you have no idea what this meeting is about?" He was still playing nice-nice so I braced myself for the storm of fury that he usually releases when he doesn't get anywhere. _What's next, bribing me for information through his excruciating methods?_ It's not like I've _been_ down that road before.

"No, Major, but I am sure that the reason why is quite rational." I'm still trying to keep calm (I'm still shaking right now…my writing is almost illegible and I need something to keep me composed, calm) and it's hard.

Hochstetter, however, was not pleased with my answer and banged the desk with his fist. This, I thought, was to be the beginning of his rage and anger, but I was lucky, for it was only a small fraction and not what he does on a day-to-day basis. "You will go, Colonel Michalovich, and I will find out what's going on! I will be sending a guard with you, and if I hear of anything, heads will ROLL!" Hochstetter turned to face the window as if he was a boy throwing a temper tantrum in his corner punishment, so I took it as being dismissed.

I went out the door quickly and almost ran into Schultz in the outer office. "Colonel, the Komm-an-DANT would like you to go into the truck now." _Oh yes, that's right, I am still a prisoner, needing to be guarded, and this evening may be even in my favor…_oy vey_…what will this war come to next, my wedding when the tanks roll in?_

"Those are not my orders!" Hochstetter said hotly from behind me, his face away from the window now; he had come up from behind me. Before Hochstetter could say anything else, however, Schultz grabbed my wrist (it's still amazing how small it is and how tiny it is compared to Schultz or Rob, for that matter) and dragged me to the truck by the wrist, just to show that he could be ruthless too. Hochstetter screamed after us and threw yet another tantrum. It was worth it to escape from him for a while though and I even covered my head in the truck as Hochstetter went to the next level. I didn't know if he going for the gun and kept my head, and my whole body for that matter, down. I didn't dare to move.

Schultz climbed in behind me, copying my actions, before Klink yelled at him to go and drive at the front. And so, Schultz left me alone in the truck, complaining how he didn't have any license or couldn't drive worth anything.

Afterward we left for a ride to Berlin in a cold truck, Schultz driving and Klink yelling at him (I could hear them argue about everything) to ease up on the gas pedal. The ride was, to say the least, bumpy and I am more than willing to forget about. I think Hochstetter beating me over and over again was much better than this ride.

~00~

"Ah, Colonel Michalovich, you have arrived at last."

That was how General Burkhalter greeted me as Schultz and Klink escorted me, obviously with an unloaded gun to my back (Schultz's, of course, but nobody knows except for the prisoners) to his office in Berlin. Burkhalter's comment as soon as I came in reminded me so much of what Hochstetter had said earlier and I almost cringed. About the gun…it was Klink's idea of security, but because Schultz rarely has the guts to kill, he leaves his gun unloaded (this much he told the prisoners). I am glad that Schultz never has the gun loaded and that he is such a sweet soul when he wants to be. Rob said, "It took us six months to housetrain him," meaning how long it took to make him "see nothing, hear nothing and know nothing." Schultz has to be smarter than that, though. Surely, he's a more intelligent man under that hunk of blubber?

Anyhow, Burkhalter got up from his desk and walked over to greet me cordially. Klink was, as usual, giving him a dopey smile and saluting, going on about how much of a pleasure to was to see him again, etc, etc. Schultz tumbled a little bit with his gun, trying to guard me and then salute General Burkhalter at the same time. It was comical how this guard, who is taking care to carry out the safety precautions Klink managed to think out (amazing AND a rare occurrence), could try to position his gun so that he can guard me and salute his better at the same time. But it was in the end that Klink took the gun away from Schultz so that he could acknowledge Burkhalter has his better. I rolled my eyes. _What is this war coming to? _I think Burkhalter was even echoing my thoughts, for he was trying hard not to roll _his_ eyes as well.

"Oh, please, Colonel, sit, sit," Burkhalter, trying hard not to berate his fellow countrymen, was motioning that I take a seat in the chair in front of his desk after the hilarious scene. Klink followed me to the other chair after he handed the gun back, but Schultz was left standing there.

"Schultz, you are dismissed," Burkhalter said. The fat sergeant obeyed and went out the door, closing it behind him and leaning against it, for I heard a creak at the door, arguing and protesting against his weight. I wanted to laugh, for this was what Schultz did sometimes to get information from us prisoners or to eavesdrop on something he or Klink need want to be let in on. I found it daunting at first, for I was still afraid of the Krauts and out of Auschwitz. However, as time went on, I eventually got used to it, for Schultz knows nothing, according to him anyway. He is just a harmless person who still knows nothing.

The three of us officers sat in our respective seats as Schultz listened in at the door. "Now, Klink, I understand that the Gestapo has taken over Stalag 13," Burkhalter began.

Klink sat up in attention immediately and started his complaining, like a whiny child who wanted to tittle-tattle. "Oh, yes, Sir, yes. It's been a few months General Burkhalter and that Major Hochstetter –"

"Yes, yes, Klink, we get the picture." Burkhalter was grimacing at the mention of our favorite Gestapo man, Hochstetter. I can tell that the two never got along. I have even seen and heard them arguing over what to do in disastrous situations that Rob, myself and the crew have positioned for them without their detection, like when we blew up the bridge, ammo dump and supply truck a few months ago (a lifetime ago, it seems).

Burkhalter continued as he turned his head to me. "And now, Colonel Michalovich, Colonel Hogan has been accused to be an Allied spy by Hochstetter and has been arrested and is to be shot Christmas Day. Is he of any value to the men and especially you?" General Burkhalter leaned forward in his seat and gave me a severe look, a hurt animal almost. It was like he was marred that I had even thought of _having_ a lover and not paid any especial attention to him.

I almost gasped and was very shocked by the question, of course. All right, so the Krauts might know that I slept in the same quarters with him, bonded with him on a daily basis in a friendly manner and have probably, for all they know, successfully kept our engagement a secret from the world. I know that they aren't _that_ stupid (with exceptions, of course, and we all know who they are). What does Burkhalter recognize though? What _did_ he have in mind? I had to be cautious about this and choose a middle ground, saying, "General, to the men, Colonel Hogan has been an endearment and is very fair to them. He is –"

Burkhalter stood up suddenly, knocking over several things off his desk. I think he was angry that I was avoiding the real answer, that I love Rob and only flirted with him to use him. "Yes, Colonel, but you are evading my question. I said, is he of any value to _you_ especially?"

_Burkhalter was becoming angry and is short of patience today_, I thought, mostly likely because of Klink and then my evasive answer. Then quickly, I think of something neutral that didn't indicate a love relationship but more of a friendship. "Well, General Burkhalter, he has been like a…an equal companion to me and has protected me from the men when it came in the way of my privacy. He has also persuaded me that there is no escape from Stalag 13 and that the Kommandant here is really an Iron Eagle." My voice was as sweet as honey and it had obviously calmed down Burkhalter because he sat down and was less red in the face.

Klink, meanwhile, was beaming. He liked my comments about him being the Iron Eagle very much. _I might get points with Klink later. _"Yes, General Burkhalter," Klink said. "There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13."

Burkhalter sighed. "So you've told me, Klink, again and again," he said. "But we have more important business to conduct here."

"What sort of business, General?" I said, on the verge of purring. Before, I have found the weakness of Burkhalter, and, like every other man, it has been women, especially one that flirts and falls into his arms (does he know, does _he_?). Earlier, just being as sweet as honey can calm him to the point of releasing any information I wanted even though he might know I'm tied down. No wonder Mata Hara got so much, I'm thinking. _But even Mata Hara was found out and executed too_, I kept in mind.

"Well, Colonel, the General –" Klink began to talk to me.

"Shut up, Klink, or I shall have to have you shot!" Burkhalter yelled but he calmed down enough to smile at me, his best at attracting women. _He'll have to do better, for I am more cunning_, I reflected…or so I thought before I was taken by, with astonishment, this new plan of action. Somehow, though, I shouldn't have been, but I was.

Burkhalter went on. "Colonel, you have a problem and we have a problem. You and your men have lost a valuable person very valued to you and we have a Gestapo takeover of Stalag 13. The Luftwaffe needs to stay separate from the Gestapo, for we shoot down your planes and they examine everything else about your side and interfere with situations above their heads. I'm willing to offer you something."

So, this is their devious dealing! Never mind the unintended pun either! I don't know if Burkhalter realizes that this is treason to the Third Reich, but to wheel and deal with the prisoners isn't. However, with them taking charge of something like this might get him shot. I know that torturing is down their alley, too. "I'm willing to think about it," I said, skeptical about what Burkhalter and Klink wanted this time, although I had an idea of what it was, and putting my hands to my lap as if I were truly contemplating it. "What's your deal?"

Burkhalter sat up straighter in his seat. "Yes, Colonel, it's what you Americans call a 'deal.' We both have dilemmas with the Gestapo and I'm willing to compromise with you. I have heard from many sources that you and Colonel Hogan are very clever and are willing to get your way. I still don't understand how nobody has ever escaped from Klink yet because of this." I heard a grumble. "Nonetheless, are you willing to find out what it takes to get the Gestapo out of Stalag 13?"

"What's in it for me?" I asked, knowing the answer full and well. I don't know why that question just popped out. Maybe it was because I wanted to hear something that could raise my hopes? I don't know.

"Well," Burkhalter continued, "if you manage to get the Gestapo out of there, then I am willing to argue against the order of Hogan's execution, that is, if you corroborate with us. He has done nothing and Hochstetter is just chasing his own tail and following some…false evidence that we've all heard over and over again. He seems to have an obsession with Stalag 13 and the sabotage that surrounds it. Klink!"

"Yes, Herr General?" Klink rose up slowly, as if he was afraid and was going to have a nasty surprise, like a one-way ticket to the Russian Front or have himself get shot. I sighed, for I knew Klink, and sadly, too well, and what we always learn of this kommandant is that he values his life, and his pride secondly.

"Klink," Burkhalter barked, "you will see to it that the Colonel has made up her plans and you will have them approved. See to it that they are executed, if they are within reason and without any accusations from the Gestapo. Then have her and the other prisoners involved watched closely. If they escape on your watch, you'll really have to worry about your life. I will personally make sure you never return from the Russian Front."

Klink sank slowly back into his chair, still afraid of that horribly cold place where nobody _ever_ returns from. However, I was curious about something and the consequence of failure called to me. "General Burkhalter, what if I refuse to uphold anything to you and refuse to go through with this masquerade?" I wasn't trying to be bold, but I asked the question in a modest, mousy way, as the General likes to see women (it is a wonder that he doesn't like his wife who bosses him more often and has cracked the whip).

Burkhalter, however happy he was I was submissive to his authority, said in a dark voice, "Colonel, you will not only lose Hogan, such a sad waste it is already, but you will eventually lose every man and yourself at Stalag 13. It will still be directed by the Gestapo, and as Hochstetter did mention, they will find out that you are spies, of which you're not, and will shot you and your men. Of course, I will personally make sure that doesn't happen…to _you_."

"How will that happen to me then, General?" I asked timidly, fingering a particularly dangerous idea in my mind. I stared at him in the face, as if I was to defy him, and was surprised by his answer to be the one I was thinking about.

Burkhalter stood up, angry, and knocked over more things off of his desk. "I will be sending you back to where you came from! Auschwitz is no place for fools, Colonel, and I'd hate to send you back – such a free-spirited soul you are – but I'd have no choice. And I will make sure that they kill you anyway they can. You will vanish as if you weren't here and your men will follow you to your grave! Do you know why you and the Major were saved the first time around?"

"No, Sir." I bowed my head, although inside, I was screaming in pain because his words reminded me of such a case. My neck was prickling and I knew that this threat wasn't as empty as I thought it was. It was _real_ and if I didn't comply with what they wanted, all of us will be sitting ducks, either at the firing squad, hanging from a noose or at a nice, little concentration camp with me – the real one-way ticket that _nobody_ can get out of. I was _lucky_, very lucky, that I came out alive, no matter how hurt I am still.

Burkhalter continued to rant, in a calmer way (darker still), even as I heard another creak in the door (Schultz was listening still) and saw, with the corner of my eye, that Klink was still cowering in his chair. "More's the pity, Colonel, when you see any women in pain and suffering. You were shot, the Major was having a nervous breakdown and there you were: cold and working someplace a man should be. You were set apart, Colonel, very fortunate indeed, that you were sent to a Luftstalag instead of a regular prison camp for it is better for you to see some men and be misplaced and useful. After all, you are a medical officer and of use to the men there. The Luftstalags haven't seen much of a better officer in the _years_ of the existence in Germany.

_That was why I was sent to Stalag 13…but is that the real reason?_ I thought, but this isn't a matter to ponder right now.

I had kept my head low and gulped so that both of the damned Krauts could hear me. I was afraid and I wanted to make sure that they didn't know the extent just that I got the message across. I whispered softly, "I'll do it then."

Burkhalter was then all smiles as soon as he heard my answer and said as he sat down again, "Excellent! Colonel, make sure to go someplace where the Gestapo can't reach you. I'm sure that, as commanding officer, Klink can get you to where you want to be. Isn't that right, Klink?"

"Yes, Sir" was all I heard from Klink who was still covering himself from Burkhalter's latest outburst. I think he was eager to get going to get this plan of mine into action, if I even thought of one in time to get Rob out of the cooler and back into the barracks safely without getting anyone killed, that is.

"Klink, you are dismissed!" Burkhalter yelled to get his attention. Klink stood back up and saluted, as did I as I stood up (well, it was more of a wave, for I never have had the decency to salute my betters for, as time went on, I have had no belief in them). The door beyond wasn't creaking anymore (Schultz must have stopped leaning on it). That much I've noticed as we left.

Behind us, I heard Burkhalter say, "I'm counting on you, Colonel Michalovich."

"And so am I," murmured Schultz as he opened for us officers and headed out the door behind me and Klink, his unloaded gun to my back. I knew that somehow, this was going to involve him and I need something sort of real plan to get us out of this. If only Rob was here, he was better at these plans than I was. If only he was here, if only…


	3. Sticky Wicket, Indeed!

**December 18**

**The Colonel's Quarters – 0130 Hours**

The men here are not very happy with what Burkhalter and Klink want in this latest sticky wicket. I can tell that this is probably going to end in a trap and get somebody killed but this is our only chance. In any case, I have started to, at least, formulate a plan yesterday to get Rob out of his execution and somehow, if the wind blows in our direction, we _might_ get everybody happy on all sides, except, of course, the Gestapo, which was what I am aiming for anyway. Part one of the plan was already done with this past day. I went out of town earlier with Klink to arrange a few things (at a bar and entertainment place, if you want to know) with an Underground agent we know in Hammelburg, named Karl, and that was that. Everything is almost falling into place and the plan has its initial setting. Except it was kind of hard persuading Klink to get into town and see our agent. He was asking questions I couldn't answer as he had us driven to town by Schultz, like how I knew the person existed. All I could say that it was Schultz, which was, of course, in a way true. Schultz has been to our contact's bar and has brought back some information from his leaves. Sometimes we get notes in his uniform without his knowledge, and it all works when he goes back because sometimes we get notes back.

I had gathered the usual crew (LeBeau, Kinch, Carter and Newkirk) and discussed with them what had conspired the night before. Reaction was, as usual, very swift and like every other time there has been something that requires a little planning and someone in the line of danger, there will be some arguing and many men debating whether or not I'll be up to anything, or at all _walking_. They (Rob included) have been _too_ concerned for me, so it is time to take charge. I silenced them quickly, much more so than Rob, for they all need from me is one glare. It can almost equal a temper going off if nobody listens to the warning, then escalate from there.

"All right…men," I began, already awkward in my wording. "This is a very serious mission. I have thought about what we can do to please the Krauts, spring Colonel Hogan and at the same time, get rid of the Gestapo. Burkhalter had hit the spot when he told me the two parties both have a problem and –"

"With all due respect, Mad'm," Carter began. "How are we g-going to do that? Gee whiz, if we could get every person happy in this camp –"

"Carter, shut up!" the other three men (Newkirk, Kinch and LeBeau) said in unison.

Newkirk had whacked Carter in the head and said, "If you'd stop interruptin', Carter, she'll _get_ to the point of her 'lan!"

"Thank you," I said smiling. "But like I said, we all have a problem. The Luftwaffe wants the Gestapo out and we want our operation and Colonel Hogan back. Again, I thought of something, and Klink approved of it after much…discussion. I know this might be a little insane, but we have no choice right now. Now, you all know that before, Colonel Hogan and I go back a-ways. We were in a band called Desertstar, my nickname, and we played for the army all over the U.S."

I paused before continuing, but Kinch caught me with question. I think he was being sarcastic for he said almost in a mocking voice, "Colonel, you're not mentioning this just to make us jealous or are you really trying to get somewhere with this?"

I didn't care that he was being a little disrespectful or anything (hell, if all the men just left me alone, I'd be a happy woman) and I knew Kinch was getting what I was aiming for. I continued, "Yes, I am trying to get somewhere with this. You all know that one of our contacts in town, Karl, owns a bar and entertainment place in Hammelburg. Schultz tells us of that place and brings us messages, remember? And places like these attract many men from all across the German army. They all love a little beer, women and someone paying attention to them. It is a distraction from war and it sometimes catches them off guard especially if the perfect circumstances are there. Now, to make a long plan short, I'll just say that I already have slots for all five of us if you all want to help. If not, I'll just have some Underground people help me out. Karl has four people from Unit 1 ready at my disposal if I wanted them. This is a risky mission and I don't want any of you feeling as if you have to do this. I don't want to place you in anymore danger than you have to be in previously. I'll take any volunteers, and I don't order them either."

I said everything fairly quickly and thought that the other men didn't men didn't hear me, so I was surprised by the responses.

"So," LeBeau started as soon as the silence started to settle in again, "Kommandant, you're saying that you and some people are going to rouse the Krauts. How is that going to free Kommandant Hogan?" The little Frenchman crossed his arms across his chest. If this matter wasn't so serious, I'd have laughed at the way these men act: like little children!

"Oui," I answered with a small smile, "but it's more than that. LeBeau, you see, guards from Stalag 13 will come and brag about what's going on to the others so that there would be jealousy. While the Gestapo guards might not come, the younger kids that work for the Gestapo will. If we planted a guard, someone willing to, and I've got him, from the Underground, to pose as a spy to them and somehow, place some evidence on the man in charge we can blackmail and get out with the additional guards seeing the evidence. Plus, within these papers is the evidence that will free Colonel Hogan."

Newkirk looked at me confused. "Gov'ness, which man in charge are you talkin' about? We can't frame Hochstetter, he has –"

"We're not getting Hochstetter," Kinch interrupted with excitement in his voice. "We're getting the man who ordered the arrest of Colonel Hogan, a Gestapo general."

"Right," I said. "We're targeting a general…to be exact, as Karl told me, General Henry Vundel, Gestapo and also of the 8th Division, who our agent and acting guard has been working for in the year he's been assigned to Germany. Now, our agent, Manfred Webber, has been gathering intelligence and sending it to the Underground and to London. I contacted him on the way out the door at Karl's place today, by the way, because he's usually there, and he did say that he'll get as much as he can, frame Vundel and get out. Webber does organize his paperwork and when Vundel gets distracted, and trust me, he gets distracted. That's where the incriminating papers come in."

I sighed. "Now, this isn't going to be easy. We have to gain the trust of this general first, which means that I'll be charming his sick self anyway. Webber is going to _need_ to find him in a daze. Now, Webber does report to this goon every once in a while and he, in his job requirements, is to find some evidence that damns or frees somebody which has saved the skin of many agents Vundel has caught. If Webber finds some material witnesses and/or some papers that prove Colonel Hogan's innocence, he'll do it. He'll even find those papers that make Vundel guilty. But, in between all this, there is a silver lining."

"Like what?" Carter spoke for the first time in a while. "Colonel, w-will we be trying to get him? You know, I have s-some delayed fuses in the tunnels and we can get him quick. And those never fail!"

Newkirk hit him on the head again. "That'll get the Gestapo goin', Andrew!"

I tried my hardest not to laugh and succeed by giving the men a straight face. "Thanks for the offer, Carter," I said, "but it's more than that. He'll be talking to me and recorded. Of course, he'll be back here in the Colonel's quarters and Klink will be recording it, so I'm going to have to hook up that microphone again so it'll happen. No, nothing upscale will happen, don't worry, because Klink's going to be listening in his office. At the same time, Klink'll be caught by Hochstetter without a doubt because he looks into everything and Hochstetter will listen to what we're saying and bust his ass. It's hard because the details have to fall into place _perfectly_."

LeBeau jumped out of his seat, unfolded his arms and stood up quickly. "Colonel, what guarantee is this going to work? You seem to have them planned carefully and want it to work out a certain way."

"Well," I admitted, "like I've said, this is a serious mission but it is dangerous and each stage has to work flawlessly before the next. You all can stay behind and let me handle it, or you can come along, like I said. I'm not ordering anybody to come. I'll have help from Karl if I need it, and so anybody can volunteer. It is the same policy as Colonel Hogan's, except I don't have them speak and have themselves volunteered. I do sorely need them, though."

The room was silent, and as usual, nobody asked to be helping me with this mission that might not work. I got up from my seat, went past LeBeau and said over my shoulder on my way to the Colonel's quarters, "All right then…I'll be waiting for Klink. Just call me when he knocks. He told Hochstetter that Burkhalter wanted to see me again tomorrow night, so –"

"Who said you were goin' alone, gov'ness?" Newkirk asked me. I turned around as soon as my hand hit the doorknob. Newkirk's remark alarmed me.

"Sir – Mad'm – you can't go alone," Carter said.

"Colonel, it is dangerous enough out there. Tell Klink we're coming," Kinch added.

"Oui, Kommandant, we're coming," LeBeau chimed in.

I smiled at them all. Rob is lucky indeed that he had a horde of loyal men, ready to serve their commanding officer, even me, a woman, who has had nobody to command but nurses who worked on the soldiers and gossiped about them all day. I was impressed.

"Thanks, everybody," was all I could say because I was that flattered. I opened the door to the quarters and went to bed, thinking about everything that has happened these past few days. I even hopped onto Rob's bunk, cuddling within his sheets. I missed him enough to want to be near anything his as much as possible.


	4. Singing at the Bar

**Later – Almost Dawn  
****The Colonel's Quarters – about 550 Hours**

I saw Rob earlier this morning. Apparently, Newkirk and Carter had, for me, dug the remaining parts of the tunnel to the cell where Rob was held so that I could talk to him and somehow get something from him (reassurance, I guess). I didn't even know they were sneaking into the tunnels the past few nights to find out which cell Rob was in and dig this tunnel for me with all those other Gestapo guards around. I would have rebuked severely them if they had done this, even if it was for me and in good intention, too. I was more in fear for them and most certainly for me if caught. It was not an issue, though. The guards were always posted in the cooler, but it was only Schultz this time. Like Kinch always says, "A little strudel never hurts Schultz." And a little strudel does mean a lot to Schultz.

I was surprised that they all knew how depressed I was, too.

In between all this confusion and hiding from the Gestapo as LeBeau made way to Schultz, I headed down into the tunnels and started my way to Rob's cold cell. When I rolled away the stone that led to Rob's cell I was in for a shocker. The Gestapo went over the top with this: Rob was beaten and unconscious on the floor of his cell! The Gestapo must have been interrogating him on a larger scale than I really thought (and I underestimating what Hochstetter can do…again) for he was really out for the count. Hochstetter must have really tried to make him crack information for he had bruises everywhere and was bleeding from his mouth, lip and wrists. He hasn't said anything yet, I can tell. The next logical step for them, though, would be to torture him to his demise.

It took me a lot of determination not to scream but to calmly go to Rob and hold him and try to nurse him back to consciousness. It was to no avail. Rob wasn't dead, but I knew that he will be if this keeps up. He was deeply unconscious and there was no chance that he'd come back to this world quickly. I knew it. I need an anchor though, so I was holding Rob closer into my arms, rocking back and forth. I closed my eyes and sang to him softly an old song, "Even when the sun come trumblin' down, you'll light the ground I walk on…" so that the Krauts didn't hear me, but Rob might. I was awfully frightened about all of this and my fear could have had us caught.

Rob might have heard me for I almost dropped him as he opened his eyes a crack. "Is it the Gestapo at this hour? I never knew that they were this pretty," he said, a twinkle in his eyes. How he can joke around in a time like this, I'll never know, but somehow, Rob has always kept his usual nonsensical humor even in the face of danger. I hushed him, for I knew he was hurting, but he was swift in realizing that it was really me, and that I, or any of the men, have not escaped yet. Then, all of a sudden, Rob was so _pissed_ off.

Rob sat up, but he almost hit the floor again because he was dizzy so he crawled away from me, propping himself up against the nearest wall, kneeling on the dirty floor as his hands dragged against the wall as if he were grasping for support. I tried to go over and help him, but Rob was a little more than irritated with me and waved me away with his hand. He started to cough and said, in between coughing and trying to breathe, "Desertstar, why are you still here? You and the men should be safe right now, in England. That was an order that –"

"I'm not going to England without you," I said boldly. "'til death do us part, remember? The risks are against us, but we're bailing you out of here alive and back into the barracks. We can't quit now."

"No…what possessed you to do such a thing?" Rob tried to say something more but he couldn't talk any further because of the coughing so hard and moaning. He was still up against the wall, but not moving at all. I was in a panic and wanted to hold him once more but denied myself that. I had to be the strong one.

"Yes," I said daringly again, "and we're coming out of this alive. It was Burkhalter and Klink who –"

"Burkhalter and Klink are in on this?" Rob gasped, moving once more. His grip on the wall didn't seem so steady after that and his head went down with his body, down to the floor. _I shouldn't have said a word, stupid me_, I thought.

"Yes," I answered with confidence, although I didn't feel like I had any. _Be the strong one, Nikki, be the strong one. _"It wasn't a choice and I didn't want to because it was –"

The both of us stopped our noises and talking when we ourselves heard voices. It was Schultz and LeBeau. "No, Cock-ROACH. I have my duties and I have to guard Colonel HO-gan. Major Hochstetter is COUNTING on me."

"Oh, Schultzie, just a little more strudel…"

"I'd better get out then," I said, leaning towards Rob. I held him back from the wall, helped him to stand up and walk over to his bunk, laying him back gently and not the floor this time.

Rob let him help him, but tried talking. "Shush," I said, kissing his forehead (I was savoring that moment…it really so hard to say goodbye again, I had tears in my eyes). "I love you, too. And do me a favor. Play nicely with those Gestapo people. You know how much they need friends." I didn't mean to joke around and felt the need to sob again.

Before I could torture myself any longer, I headed back to the wall's hole, where it was open, and crawled back into the tunnel, closing the entranceway behind me, softly so that nobody but me could hear the rustle of the stone rolling back into place. I stopped as I heard Schultz's voice booming behind me, snuffing my knuckle into my mouth to suppress a pitiful moan. I was also worried about LeBeau, for if he was found down there with Schultz, then all three can face dire consequences with Hochstetter: LeBeau for being there, Schultz for not guarding and Rob because he was there.

I have been crying ever since. I hope to G-d, nothing, _nothing_, will ever take away Rob from his men and those who love him. And nothing is going to stop me from saving him if I can help it at all.

**December 19  
****Outside Karl's Bar – 0430 Hours**

There has been an air raid, a real Allied air raid, so the bar and its new entertainment toy (what the men in the audience are calling me now) are closed until further notice. Kinch, Carter, LeBeau, Newkirk and I are in the truck in the back and are waiting for our return to Stalag 13, which should be shortly, if Klink hurries up.

This is, however, a very small step closer (to me, anyhow) to the truth and to freeing Rob and our operation from the Gestapo. Tonight was really the initial step and so far, it's working…the plan, I mean. I was accepted by the men in the audience and they are almost enchanted by what I was doing. I sang, paid attention to them and received jealous looks from the many wives and girlfriends that came here. Now, if Vundel was just as vulnerable like Webber told me a few days ago, this plan might turn in our direction.

Klink did take me, Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk into the bar and entertainment center under extreme guard (with me explaining to Hochstetter, in innocent detail, where we were going for the next few nights, and so far, the lie about being secretly transported to Berlin for interrogation with Burkhalter's men, is working, seeing as how some of them were around with their shiny weapons) and, to be honest, it just wasn't Schultz that was there. This was after I had all four men reassure our beloved Kommandant Klink with the flawless record that we weren't going to escape for Schultz and some other trigger-happy Luftwaffe guards will be watching backstage and in the dressing rooms, like what was ordered from Klink.

All and all, after the security issue was solved, this had to be a casual and cautious affair. If the people found out that Allied prisoners of war were conducting shows until Christmastime, that'll be the end of my plan and the beginning of some shimmering guns pointing at us at the firing squad. And I bet Hochstetter would be smiling at that, for sure.

Anyhow, we arrived there about 2000 hours after our roll call and the Kraut's constant and worrisome checking of who is in sight and who escaped from the truck and upon entering the bar (none, obviously, just the Iron Eagle being paranoid). The bar itself was going to be empty until about 2230 hours, when Karl usually opens for the evening and early morning acts. And that act, both sets until we needed to leave for roll call, was going to be us – me, Kinch, LeBeau, Newkirk and Carter – and not a prisoner more. I was missing the drum section badly (Rob, the best drummer yet, was always in, but since he's in the cooler and we're doing this for him, I can deal with it), so Carter, who said he played the trumpet, would take Rob's place. LeBeau was on piano, Kinch was on a stand-up bass and Newkirk was sort of playing the small guitar (I had to teach him and convince Klink that he could go too, and this took some time to show off). And of course, I'm on vocals. Although it took so much practice, I think I got the other four to play what Rob and I used to.

I'm just trying to process our last practice still.

"Mad'm, request to speak bluntly?" Carter asked me at the end of practice earlier this evening in the closed-off Recreational Hall, before we came here. The instruments had attracted some attention from the outside and we had to stop for the day before leaving. The Gestapo guards had noticed us and were ready to report to Hochstetter but Schultz had distracted them other prisoners misbehaving elsewhere (all in thanks to them, we came out safely).

I sighed. "Yes, Carter, go right ahead," I said, bracing myself for yet another childish comment.

"Well, Mad'm," Carter began, "me and the guys were d-discussing this and what we want to say is that…well…I don't know how to put it –"

"You're a depressed genius," Kinch said.

I smiled and was laughing, remembering a time when someone else said that. Rob had said the same thing when he discovered my poems. He snuck into my upstairs room when I started living next door to him and his family. I was only fifteen, establishing myself in the household as the female who did the housework and, naturally, was doing the laundry outside when I saw _someone_ through the window. I thought the figure was just Nicholas, who usually was usually lost in that big house. Irritated that I had to help him find his way around _again_, I dropped the clean laundry in the basket in a huff and went upstairs and saw it was Rob, eating an apple and dripping juice all over my journal, the one that Nancy gave me. I was furious and almost yelled and scared him out of the house, but was caught surprised when he looked up at me, smiling, and said, "Dammit, Nikki, you are really a depressed genius. Did you ever show this to anyone?"

I was lost in my memories until I felt a shake. It was only Newkirk, getting me out of a memory that I wanted to stay in for a while. "Hey, gov'ness, did you 'ear us?"

I sadly shook my head. "Yes, I did hear," I said, "and thank you. It just reminded me of what Colonel Hogan said to me a long time ago."

"Oh" was all I got from all of them, simultaneously and almost quiet, like a hum.

~00~

_You don't expect from me this chain reaction  
You can't imagine from me this great affection  
See the structure of my pride  
It wasn't easy to build it away from this  
I never walked away from you, I never walked alone_

That was what I opened with this night, some piece that was written so long ago I cannot remember the name of it or when it was written. I was so nervous that this was happening and as soon as the music started I tried to keep my cool, and was successful. It's been a year since I've done this. Except, Nancy and Duncan are dead, Rob is in a cell awaiting execution, I have a ragtag band (faithful men, nonetheless) and I am not traveling in between my assignments from the army, but merely playing at one place to save our Stalag 13 operation and Rob.

You know, Rob had always told me that every time I was depressed, I wrote the best lyrics, not that my depression was a good thing, but it brought out a more sadistic side of me and life around us and it was more elegiac and dark than anything else. He also mentioned that when I was pissed off too, that I write more bittersweet pieces than most of my work. Every time I think about that last sentence, I always think back to when the war started for us in 1942. When Rob left for his flights into Germany for the Underground, I wrote something – two poems actually – that I regret profoundly and am glad that they are gone now. I was so mad at his going like that, but I was still deep in despair about my selfishness.

The strange thing is that I carried those pieces of anger with me: from my unit in London, to _Nite Lites_ and then hidden in my locket as tiny squares at Auschwitz, in its deepest cracks and then burned before anyone else could see it. As the prisoners burned their fires at the factory, melting metals for the parts needed for the German war effort, I tossed the small pieces of paper in there, knowing that I could die for all anyone cared.

It seemed too many yesterdays ago. The days slipped one after another, each burning a desire within me to survive. And here I am today, still recounting them into my head, spinning their meanings, and tossing them to a corner of my mind. I want to forget it. There is no more need for anyone to know of my despair. We need to survive ourselves.

During the course of the show, none of us messed up. Some of the instruments were out of tune, but I can't complain for the guys did their very best even though I knew Newkirk was having trouble with the guitar (I just hope Klink didn't notice, although I doubt he'd even watch him but sleep at these heathen hours). I sang my way around the tables of many German soldiers that came. I could tell they held a trance in my eyes; their whole beings were focused on me and not the people who played for me. This, of course, is what I wanted all along, for if I can get Vundel like this, then the rest is history and we can get Rob out of that cell and out of his execution if everything goes according to my crazy plan.

It was around 0330 hours that a siren rang for an air raid and we, the band, had an hour to go before we had to pack up. Schultz and the guards, who were still backstage and some sleeping (I don't like to mention names, but Schultz wasn't watching us carefully as usual, which was what Rob and the others trained him to do), suddenly sprang to life and ran under some furniture. Schultz, especially, was trying to get under a table that he obviously couldn't fit under (that was comical and I was trying hard not to laugh so hard). It was us five prisoners, however, that stayed our posts. We were done with the song. We had almost finished the second set and were ready for a break and then continue for the last hour, so this was no loss. All of the men, however, dropped their instruments and gathered around to me for orders.

"What do we do now, Colonel?" Kinch was yelling over the obnoxious siren and screaming in the background.

"Right now, just find some cover," I yelled back, "and let me find Webber. I need to know if he's here or not –"

I was interrupted by someone grabbing me from behind. I was ready to fight back and give a good knock in the head to that person when I realized that it was only Karl. "Desertstar," he said hurriedly, "Webber is over there, waiting for you." He pushed me in the other direction, almost toppling me offstage, for he had a business to run and people to calm down (LeBeau mentioned later that some Gestapo guards from camp, especially agents from Hochstetter, was around asking questions and he had to cater to them too). I caught my balance on the stairs going down and I saw where Karl was pointing to. It was just straight ahead, the man in the grey German uniform, the aide who watched me all night. He was enveloped in a cloud of smoke from his previous cigarettes, always as he was the last time I saw him (or every time I've seen him, for that matter).

I went in that direction without detection from any of our German guards and sat down with Webber just as he was lighting another cigarette that seemed to have come out of nowhere. I felt as part of the clouds of smoke as Webber did. "Good evening, Fräulein," he said through the cigarette in his mouth. "Is this desert's star the one that seems to cover the starry skies?"

It was a code and the one that London approved of when I started spying. It's usually the main one and not used too often. "Yes, and it is the shining star that might brighten up this stage tonight," I replied.

Webber visibly sighed and blew more smoke to cover us, and our conversation, up. "Colonel, you did a wonderful performance tonight. I just hope to get General Vundel out here." Webber continued to burn down his cigarette. He even offered me one as he closed his eyes, kicked back his chair and started to relax through the absurdity of an air raid as if it never bothered him that there was noise everywhere we turned to.

Nervous as I was about how the Germans might catch us in our planning (the smoke and noise covered us up surely, but I am always cautious), I took it and accepted his lighting of it as soon as his chair was upright. I puffed on it slowly, relaxed as Webber did and savored the taste of freedom. Usually, Klink never lets us have any extra luxuries of life, so this cigarette, like the others that Newkirk has around in his numerous pockets, are something to make you forget that there's a war going on. I usually don't smoke, but when I'm worried or even trying to think of something, a smoke would do the trick to calm me down anytime. Being drunk does the same thing to me too, but I want my all of my senses fully aware of everything for the next week or so and it's not just for my sake.

"Yes," I said, "and please send my fondest greetings to General Vundel." In between puffing away on my cigarette, I slipped a message in paper to Webber under the table, the message I had written to this goon named Vundel, all according to the plan.

Just as Webber realized what it was, he nodded at me and winked. I was about to say something back, about the bizarre things we must do for our country, when someone grabbed me from behind the grey smokescreen and this time it was to get me out from the chair. My cigarette flew out of my mouth, wet with my saliva, and I turned around to fight again, only to have Klink stare angrily into my eyes. All he had to do, to get his point across, was to drag me back to the truck outside with Schultz behind him, stuttering about how I was being watched the whole time. Webber, as I saw when I turned my head around at the exit door, picked up my cigarette and saluted me with it, putting it in his mouth after puffing away his last one.

"Colonel Michalovich, I will NOT have you socializing like that in order to escape!" Klink yelled as soon as he had Schultz throw me into the truck. Klink had the decency toremind him that General Burkhalter wanted us chained together by the feet so that we don't flee. There were loud protests from the men again, but one look from me quieted the four rowdy men who sat hurdled in the back of the truck. _Let's just be chained and be over with it_, I said without words. _Just as long as we're safe from the Gestapo, just deal with it for now. It's nothing compared to the Gestapo's way of handling prisoners._

"I wasn't escaping, _Sir_," I said in a bold voice as Schultz and some other guard was chaining our feet, and always making sure to emphasis _Sir_ in a detestable tone. "I was only talking to him, that silly aide, about what a wonderful job the men did tonight and he was agreeing with me. Don't you think, men?"

"Oh, yes, Colonel Michalovich, it was sure the best," Carter started. "I mean, boy, when you started and the m-men started to whis–"

One hit in the head from Newkirk silenced the childish and big-mouthed Carter. Klink didn't seem to notice and just huffed at the comments we always make in situations such as this. He usually ignored the nonsensical comments.

And we are all outside still, an hour later, waiting for the air raid to be over with. LeBeau, Kinch, Newkirk and Carter are all hurdled together in the back of this truck, cold and shivering as I am writing this in whatever light the streetlight is giving me (as Schultz in front of me is sleeping and snoring again with the guards around us and Klink nowhere in sight). We are all still chained together by the legs, on the orders of Burkhalter, and this wintry wonderland is not making my exposed legs any warmer. The men beyond me keep begging for me to do get closer to share body heat, but I have more things to worry about than this bitter German winter. My heart will break into the coldest winter if this doesn't work and we'll all be cold in our graves before long, in any case.


	5. Exhaustion

**December 20  
****The Barracks – 0220 Hours**

I have to stop writing at times in the morning like this. I'm risking wrath by the Gestapo by leaving a small light on in here. I can't bear the Colonel's quarters anymore either and the men, unaware of the small candlelight, will only make matters worse by making me face another nightmare in that horrid room. It is better to stay out here and be seen, in full view, than to hide in a place of memories, anyhow. I don't want to hide in there and cry.

Kinch has already noticed that the bags under my eyes are larger than ever and are turning purple with fatigue. I haven't been sleeping _at all _ever since this all started and it is worse that I'm worried that we'll all lose in the end and the Gestapo will kill us all.

I had to keep reassuring Kinch that I was fine and that I didn't need to be led to bed to sleep like he was threatening to do to me because he knew "Colonel Hogan would like that to happen." I brushed him off just as he said, "I would have done the same for Colonel Hogan and I have." He was bold and disrespectful, but I didn't care. In all seriousness, I love it that Kinch was acting like a friend, and not a compatriot in a P.O.W. camp. He spoke bluntly to me about his apprehension and I received them with open ears as we agreed to sit and talk in the center table of the barracks. The two of us even started to eat while the others prepared to go outside and socialize in whatever time the Gestapo was giving them (ten minutes with no groups, a tiny change I was somewhat grateful for).

I wasn't happy, however, that Kinch was bothering me to sleep. Again, I appreciate his concern, no matter how irritated I was inside. I kept my feelings contained and answered Kinch that I valued this concern, but that I was fine. The commander wished to worry more about the mission and the men than herself. Those were the priorities. "But there are times in which I want to strangle the commanders who don't do the same," I talked on as the men in their bunks listened. "You shouldn't worry all the time. I'll be all right. I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so, Colonel Michalovich. Whatever you need, Mad'm, just call one of us," Kinch answered, still with doubt on his face. "Whatever the Colonel's move is, it will be done. It is her war."

I was stunned that Kinch said that and was still shocked by this as he left the barracks, our talk ending as soon as he said it. The men around him, though, acknowledged it as truth.

~00~

Hochstetter had taunted me earlier this long night and had done it in the worst way possible. I'm trying to write this calmly, much more so than Kinch's words. It was after roll call at about 1630 hours. The sun was setting and the skies drew their farewell lines as the night skies pushed them over. It was as if it outlined what was going to happen next: the light of my life being pushed out by the Gestapo, the darkness of night.

Just as Schultz dismissed us as Hochstetter ordered him to do something (I was becoming happy that Schultz was back to counting us again, although not the carrier of news anymore), I couldn't hear, he was calling from a window. Then I saw the quick-paced Hochstetter coming out of Klink's office (without Klink within anyone's sight, as per usual since September) and called me to "his" office. "Colonel, please give me the pleasure of your company" was how he put it. He was too nice and this meant he wanted something. My neck was prickling.

I nodded at Kinch, Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau, indicating that they stay away, and I followed Hochstetter into the inner office. I was in for a surprise, for the first sight I caught was Rob, chained and beaten to the floor. A Gestapo guard was watching him, a gun to his back, but when Rob slowly started to sit up on the floor, the guard pulled the safety latch off the gun. My neck prickled again, for any sudden move would come to his death.

"Stop that!" I screamed, automatically, in German. The sentry looked at me as if I was the dirt he stood on (most Germans who know what I am would consider me that), and it only took a step from that guard before he had me grabbed by the hair and in the chair in front of Klink's desk. Granted, I didn't have much hair, but the indecency of it made me want to kill him.

Hochstetter himself was seated, away from the winter winds he called me from, at the desk and glaring at me with his eyes, viewing this scene as evidence. "So, Colonel," he began. "Where were you last night with Sergeant Kinchloe, Corporal LeBeau, Sergeant Carter and Corporal Newkirk?"

"That's between me, the four enlisted men, Kommandant Klink and General Burkhalter," I replied in spite. "And I told you where we were. Kommandant Klink had taken us for interrogation sessions with General Burkhalter in Berlin. I didn't know that you doubted this reasonable explanation, Major Hochstetter."

I kept a bold look to my face and never faltered. Rob, however, somehow came to the seat next to me (was he trying to protect me?) and we both were punished with a hit to the head by the guard. Rob went down low whilst I stood straight. _Any gesture of familiarity would mean our deaths and I've already proved it too many times_, I kept in mind as I sat up upright. I knew that Rob went down like that, not only in pain, but to hide his fear and his concern for me. That moment was when I was to show our strength.

"Don't play games, Colonel," Hochstetter warned, either for me or Rob, I couldn't tell. But he wasn't intimidating me this time. This time, I am to be as brave as Nancy was (I still shudder to think she's dead) and to stand up to their brutal Gestapo agent.

"She's not," Rob said with hatred in his voice, the first time he spoke that serious to anyone in the Kraut business (he's usually sarcastic, trying to be funny or even bargaining). "It's only some little masquerade you created. According to the Geneva Convention, all prisoners of war shouldn't be abused in any way or –" With this, Rob was interrupted when he was hit in the head again and dragged away quickly from his chair and out the door of the office by the same guard, back to wherever he was held. I know Rob is not dead, for I would have known by now. And in my heart, I would know, for it would be separated and broken if he was dead and I would surely wither away.

Hochstetter smiled as he watched one colonel leave and all he could order was for the latter to be punished the same way, but he chose another course. "So," he continued, "shall we talk some more?" I refused to answer him and stayed silent the whole time, even as he battered me over and over again as I sat stiffly in my chair. I endured this, even when it got me laying on the floor, until Klink walked in about ten minutes later, bad timing of course. He was flabbergasted about this and turned to Hochstetter for any answer, but there was none.

"Out!" Hochstetter yelled as he stood over me, my body perversely in-between his legs. I didn't know he meant me or Klink, but I scampered out from under his legs quickly right behind Klink (who went straight out the door), so I guess that I counted for Hochstetter never sent the guard after me.

I got back to the barracks in such a hurry. Kinch, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau came out of the Colonel's quarters in a rush and kept yelling out questions. "Colonel, are you all right?" "Do you need anything?" "Do we need to call a medic?" "Is Colonel Hogan all right?"

The last thing I need is a medic (Wilson will not be pleased either way). True, I was covered in bruises and my mouth was bleeding from the lip. Still, I need nothing but to get to Karl's tonight. I silenced with one look (I'll admit it, but I like doing that sometimes) and said, "I need nothing right now." The question about Rob, however, stabbed my heart. I wanted to scream, "No, he's not all right! Quiet down and let's continue the plan already!" but I didn't bother. All I said afterward was, "Colonel Hogan was being used in another game of Hochstetter's and was taken out before I could know what was wrong with him."

There was silence for a while. Then I heard more about me. "Colonel," LeBeau protested, "we heard that filthy Kraut through the coffee pot. Surely you need something?" His voice was full of odium and spite for the Krauts.

"Nothing," I answered through clenched teeth. "I need nothing. Let's just get through tonight and see what happens next." I went past them and into my quarters (I really hate to say they're my quarters, because they're not). I wanted to be alone this time, in these hated accommodations, but continued to talk over my shoulder to them before I closed the door. "We're continuing the plan tonight and nobody and _nothing_ is going to stop us. If Klink comes in here, tell him it's still on for tonight and to make the same excuse as before. If he needs a new one, he can come to talk to me."

I stopped and swiveled my body at the doorway to face them. "We have to get Major Hochstetter and his filthy goons out of here, or leave here, in death or through escape to London, without a fight. It's still your choice: prepare right now to leave or work with me. It's a dangerous mission and you all don't need to be in the middle of it. You've put up with enough already." It was their choice, and they all wanted to stay, I could sense it. It was surely a fight to the end. I smiled at them and closed the door.

The second night at Karl's bar only proved that this plan is still in its early stages and that anything, and I mean _anything_, can still go wrong. All I remember that night was the men playing as best as they could and me singing my heart out. I was on the verge of tears and my bruises from Hochstetter were not yet healed (they were hidden as everything else on my body is) nor was the pain of seeing Rob in Klink's office.

~00~

As I sang of the good old yellow brick road (I remember writing that after Rob and I saw _The Wizard of Oz_ after it came in the movie theaters), I saw that Webber was glaring at me, at the same table from the night before, smoking another cigarette (if he hadn't been smoking so much, I'd see him better behind that mask of smoke). I did see, though, that he saluted me with his burning cigarette again and mouthed "Tomorrow" before picking up his coat and heading back into the swirling snow storm that was enveloping the bar (his cloud was destroyed outside, I should like to think). Tomorrow night then was the big night to start enchanting Vundel and getting those papers signed and ready. I knew that if I failed, more necks will be sacrificed.

Otherwise, the night passed on without incident. Schultz and others still guarded us from backstage, we were still chained at the truck at the very end of the second set and Karl still couldn't talk to me. He was still running about, still trying to secure the place after the Allied air raid the night before. At least the truck was warmer than outside it and the wind wasn't so bad (it wasn't picking up any speed). Kinch, Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau were warm and that's all that matters to me. The men should be happier than their commanding officer and I am more concerned for them than for myself, anyway.


	6. Anxious and Scheming Generals

**December 21  
****The Barracks – 1520 Hours**

Last night, I think, was the turning point in the plan. Vundel came to Karl's and that was that. He is to meet me back at Stalag 13, in the Colonel's quarters, at 2300 hours tomorrow night, the twenty-second. I'll make sure that tonight, Webber'll get to those papers before he even comes here to make his getaway. That way, when Webber presents his papers, Vundel can sign them and Webber can send them to our local Kraut man Major Hochstetter and head for the tunnels to escape with the agents of the Underground through Karl's connections, who can get him to the sub at the coast. Meanwhile, I can head Vundel off at the barracks and get some information out of him while Klink listens via the microphone at the lamp which I will turn back on. Our beloved Major Hochstetter is sure to catch him, listen to him and send his guards on a wild goose chase. I'll probably get a few days in the cooler or solitary confinement, but it'll be worth the while. With this scandal, the Gestapo will have no choice but to leave.

At the same time as this is all happening, Newkirk, Kinch, Carter and LeBeau will be able to watch out for the signs that this plan is or is not working and they'll know because they'll be right behind me in the truck. If it doesn't, then they are to warn the other prisoners, who have packed by my orders, to get into the tunnels and leave Germany immediately and get through to England. There are enough escape routes around Germany and too many prisoners to catch (at last count, there were over five hundred men in the camp). I'm sure that they'll all, if not most, get away.

I am trembling already. I am so nervous and scared. I guess you can laugh, for it is the understatement of the year. But I cannot laugh. I am almost as jittery as the razor's edge, thin and ready to crack at any time. Tonight though, I have to make sure that those papers have been signed and sent to Major Hochstetter by the morrow as Webber is ready to go. I have to make sure that Vundel can trust me with his heart and send his piece of it to me. Anything can still go wrong.

I wish Rob was here to reassure me, but now, it is my duty to stay sane and watch these men, and by my spirit, I am swear that I'll never lose any one of them and make sure that they are safe from the Gestapo and that much I can give to Rob when he is in confinement or gone.

Oh, damn, Klink is already calling for me. Schultz is here in his stead to tell me what Klink wants from me: to see me without Hochstetter, someplace secret most likely, like the Colonel's quarters. It's not even dusk or even time for our lovely evening roll call. What does Klink want? Moreover, why is a general's car parked in the camp? Is it Burkhalter? If it is, then _what_ does _he_ want from me?

**Later – Nightfall  
****The Colonel's Quarters – 1700 Hours**

So, it was really General Burkhalter who came. He's anxious about the Gestapo still (not a surprise) and has asked that we talk in my quarters (I still hate calling it so) when I was called to Klink's office so that he can assure that they're be no microphones planted by the Gestapo. Thank G-d Hochstetter was elsewhere in the compound, and he is sure to hear about this visit, but he can't question what the General does and I hope he never asks _me_ or the other men about it. Although Rob has assured that there are no microphones turned on in these barracks except for ours in the coffee pot, we always keep one in handy for Klink, for which I am glad for right now. Part three of the plan depends on it.

As soon as I led the two Kraut men to the quarters and closed the door behind Burkhalter and Klink, who had come into the barracks in such a hurry (trying to avoid the Gestapo and Major Hochstetter before they get here?). Burkhalter got right to business, something I like in a person although I don't think I'd like anything else about the Krauts. "Colonel, what is being done about the Gestapo?" he asked. "How close you are to being finished with this grand plan Klink has told me about?"

"Well, General Burkhalter," Klink began, although I knew the question was directed to me, "the prisoners have been –"

"Will you let the Colonel speak, Klink?" Burkhalter yelled. The yelling seemed as if it was going to rattle the barracks and cause suspicion from the Gestapo. And I, for one, have had been in enough trouble from the Gestapo. We prisoners need to free the camp from them and get Rob out of his execution but I didn't want to tell the General that. Let him think that I'm just doing this to get out of Auschwitz and to get Rob freed (both of which are true, especially the latter). I could care less, just as long as the Krauts never, _ever_ find out about our system and the tunnels. That is the _most_ important thing.

"General Burkhalter," I said with a whimsical sigh coming from my mouth, "I am on a breakthrough with this plan. Please let me carry it out, for I am almost certain that within a few days, the Gestapo might be able to leave because of a…little _scandal_." I paused and let that sink in before continuing. "I might be in their way and they might use me to their advantage, but I am sure that they're going to be out of the camp soon. I told the Kommandant here to make sure that he has his radio on and to make sure that he is listening to the microphone in this lamp –" I indicated the lamp, which happened to be above the General's head, "tomorrow night and to record whatever it being said. I just hope that Major Hochstetter –"

"That's enough now, Colonel Michalovich!" Burkhalter said with a nervous tinge to his voice. "Klink, let her go through with her plans and just as long as it doesn't get the Luftwaffe involved." He quickly turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Klink went behind him, opening the door and protesting at General Burkhalter.

I didn't want to be involved with their fighting then so I just stood there, amazed still at their worries about the words "microphone" and "scandal". My main concern, however, was Vundel and getting him in here tomorrow night. At least I reminded Klink what to do tomorrow night with his radio, now disconnected from the lamp since we have always have had the microphone off.

Kinch popped his head into the Colonel's quarters after this loud farewell. "And what does the General want?" he asked in his famous German accent. "What does General Burkhalter want from the most secure P.O.W. camp in all of Germany?" I laughed at him for making fun of Klink (Kinch even had a coin in his eye, a mocking satire of Klink and his monocle) and stopped short, just as Kinch stopped his mockery of the Krauts (the coin came out of his eye without more ado) when I saw Gestapo sentries flashing their flashlights in my quarters before moving on to close the windows, blocking out all light and sound. _They're closing them a tad bit early tonight_, I thought._ Hochstetter must be getting pretty paranoid if he saw the General and then gets an idea that he's trying to discredit him._

"Colonel Michalovich?" Carter cracked his head in and tried to get Kinch out of the way so he can talk. "What's the big plan for tonight? What are we d-doing?"

"The same thing as we did for the past few nights," I said, "except with a little twist."

"Are we gettin' that General Vundel in touch 'onight?" Newkirk said as he too, came into the room. He opened the door some more, letting in the wonderful smells of the food LeBeau was cooking. I can't even believe that I'm hungry. I have better things to think about than _food_.

"Yes, we are," I replied with my mouth watering already, "and tomorrow is the big night for us. Webber should have those papers signed by now and headed to Hochstetter and that general will be putty in my –"

Suddenly, a siren rang out from within the camp, calling for an air raid. "Get under the tables now!" I yelled. "Is there anyone in the tunnels?"

"No" was the answer I got from everyone, loudly and quickly (I'm still concerned, because what if there was really someone under there?). I dove under Rob's desk and two other men, Carter and LeBeau (who's pretty fast for someone his size), crowded next to me. Newkirk and Kinch went under bunks nearest to the door in the barracks' main room.

It was a tight squeeze under the desk, and with LeBeau swearing in French about dinner, it wasn't a pleasant late afternoon. It didn't help that we heard the Gestapo guards and some of the Luftwaffe ones going in different directions and blaring out, in profanity, surprise. The sirens keep running through my ears and every time I think about it, it feels as if it is the call for our deaths, the one that would take us out of bed and in front on a firing squad…

"Colonel, are you all right?" LeBeau asked me, the anger gone from his voice but an anxiety ringing.

I tried to turn and instead hit my head against the top of the desk. I saw stars (and Carter trying hard _not_ to imitate me as he went out from under the desk), but managed to say, "Fine, dandy. I just hope that this is the encore and that we're to applaud their efforts later." The bombing seemed to be able two miles away at that point. I can't tell, but it was close. Rob would know better because of his experiences, Rob –

I don't want to think about this right now.

There was no damage to the barracks or any of the men, by which I am most thankful for. Dinner was ruined, of course, because of all the shaking, and so, we had no fancy dinner for tonight, but no matter. Just as long as everyone is alive and well, then I am happy.

Target: tomorrow night, Vundel. I am so tense…I wonder how Rob is doing right now…I hope he's alright…but I am so tense! Will the others be all right? Will they be safe? I still am so tense…I can't say _that_ enough! I have to stop this being-tense thing or else…we might fail. Oh, dear G-d, help us!


	7. Failure

**December 23  
****The Cooler – 0345 Hours**

Burkhalter has kept his other promise (threat?). Yet, I can't believe what has happened these past couple of days. I am going back to Auschwitz, the Gestapo is still here and Rob is going to be killed in two days hence, at dawn Christmas Day, along with the men if Hochstetter can help his greedy bastard self. The hope I had has just flew out the window of this small, cold cell. I cannot command, the plan was disastrous as everyone thought it to be and I am having that one-way ticket out of here that Burkhalter has promised me if I didn't get the Gestapo out of Stalag 13. I don't know what will happen to the men of this camp, Klink or even Schultz. For all I know, those two foolish Krauts could be sent to the Russian Front and the men will be shot, one by one, along with Rob. I am going back to Poland and that's for sure.

I am a failure.

There, I said it. I am a failure. I couldn't hold my family together, couldn't keep my love from this twisted Fate and I couldn't even keep a brigade of Allied prisoners of war in line for this. I couldn't get them to escape to safety.

Dammit…I can't say how it all started, for the plan was looking up after Burkhalter came. I was excited, although tense, that finally, something _good_ could happen to us all. The stupid Gestapo might be getting out of here, Burkhalter will be happy and we'd have our operation back under their noses. I wasn't thinking and I wasn't watching my step and that is usually what Rob warns me about. I was creating a plan that had no hope of succeeding and a false optimism that somehow, this war wouldn't make victims of us all, which was the greatest belief I've had ever since I arrived in England with Rob, Jerry and Jimi. I was wrong, I was _so_ wrong, and now, I am paying the consequences for my actions, my selfish wishes and my dreams that we'd be together after the war.

It was only twelve hours ago that I was happier. Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau and Kinch were all ready to go to Karl's and they, too, were excited, much more than I was, that this was the night to end all nights: we're nabbing our crook and holding him accountable for the crimes he has committed to us. Vundel, as Webber told me that morning via his coming to the camp on business for the Gestapo, said that he has the papers signed. Webber also mentioned, through his usual thick cloud of cigarette smoke, that Vundel was drunk. As Hochstetter and his goons checked his paperwork and credentials, they spotted me and some of the men walking by the car and waved us away with guns.

Now, with this information at hand, I figured that Webber sent them to Hochstetter and some of the other Gestapo Generals but I don't know what they'll do with the evidence. Wait, what evidence? There is no trial in Nazi Germany, just the accusations and your execution. A trial is just common courtesy for those who are held in high esteem. Then they would also find themselves in a sling and guilty as charged unless you had a stroke of luck and that was very slim indeed.

The night before and last night, I thought that a drunken Vundel had looked up to me and saw me as a wonder ready to serve and obey, like I have told every man that I have reluctantly seduced. I remembered how I swiped him away, purred like a slut and led him to believe that being a prisoner of war was nothing, just as I talked to him after the show: that he couldn't save me for the life of him and that I was still dedicated to the Allied Powers as he was dedicated to the rising of Nazi Germany, Hitler and the rest of the hideous Axis Powers. He agreed, and even managed to murmur, "Let me meet you at your quarters then, at Stalag 13. Is there anyone else in the way?"

I had to set his mind at rest and said, "Nothing can get in the way of us two." And that was the end of that. I knew that I would hate him in the same cramped quarters Rob and I shared for the past seven months and hate him for condemning the man I shared the quarters with, and I was right. My feelings foreshadowed what was to come and every prickling in the neck indicated danger. I ignored these feelings and went on with the plan anyhow.

I remember the last song I sang that night's set, it was only 0245 hours this morn and not the usual 0430 dismissal because of the Gestapo's orders to close the bar earlier. I was becoming more and more…and more…tense and I wanted to remember that this was all up to me. All up to me, indeed! Vundel stood up and applauded as I sang the last song.

I don't know what went wrong then that indicated to Vundel what I was and was not doing. I didn't even think what would happen next if he knew what was going on. All I was thinking about was: _I got him and we're one step closer to the truth than I thought_._ We're closer to having Stalag 13 back to the Luftwaffe_. Alas, it wasn't exactly so. Apprehensive as I was, I knew that the end of something was near. My neck stung and I didn't know that it was for the end of me, Rob, the men and the operation or if it was for dangers of facing Vundel and pushing the men and me to the firing squad. I ignored every feeling that said DANGER, like I usually do, and I paid the price heavily.

Vundel went up to the stage and tried to take me by the arm immediately after the show was over but I evaded him, playfully, for a while. I wanted to talk to the guys backstage before the next step of the plan. I also wanted to make sure with Karl that Webber was with the Underground, for his assignment in Germany is over.

Vundel was, of course, trying to get through the crowds that congested the stage to chase his prey. In all this chaos, before Vundel found me, Karl told me, as he passed the stage, that Webber was fine and that he was already halfway through Germany. I surely hope that he gets through it alive. He does have papers to prove who he is, but according to the laws of Germany, all deserters are to be shot, and a deserter Webber is.

Anyhow, Kinch, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau were concerned about tonight especially, but I had the last word when I reached them backstage: an order I expect to be followed. I made sure that Vundel was away from me (ordered by Karl, as well, to wait away from the backstage area, thank G-d, because of his rule that all visitors had to wait until the band broke for the evening) before I spoke to the four in our tight circle backstage. "Listen, everybody, if nothing comes of this tonight and you know that the Gestapo is really going to kill everybody, please run off, with Colonel Hogan if you can, and get out. It'll be better if Schultz was guarding him, but we don't know that. Just get every person into the tunnels and escape to England. Forget about me. Just don't worry about me." I paused. "Make sure that everybody gets out and if you have the time, take Colonel Hogan, and that's an order, please. Get to England –"

"But gov'ness –" Newkirk protested.

"Peter," I cut him off short and feeling shocked, as did everyone else, that I used his first name, "listen to me! If you all followed this order and get out, there won't be a mass killing tonight, or any other night, by the Gestapo. Just leave for England if this gets out of hand. That's a _direct_ order!"

It all silence after all, even as Vundel came backstage to see me after the crowds parted a path for him (Karl must have let him in, too). "Shall we go darling?" he asked me through this thick silence.

I gulped and turned to face him, scared already. I had vomit in my throat and was ready to kill myself as I said these words: "Coming, sweetest heart, just warm up that car!" I tweaked his nose (he loved it – it was _sickening_) and turned my back to him to signify that I wanted a private moment with these people. I even twisted my head to face him and smiled, indicating that I wanted to do so when, in truth, I wanted to strangle him then and there. At least he knew that this was the case (that I wanted to talk with my men alone), and he motioned for his other aides to move away. I was finally alone.

"Listen," I continued, "I appreciate all of your loyalty and service to me. But now, it is all over, if it hasn't been already. I cannot sacrifice all of you men any longer and place you in more danger. You all need to escape from this menace. Tell what happened at Stalag 13 at Headquarters and leave it at that. Send the final letters, for all I care! Just run off and leave me, don't try to rescue me. I don't want you to get killed."

It was another silence that followed this, and then Kinch spoke up. "Colonel, it's been an honor to work with you, however short the time was."

Kinch saluted me and shortly afterward, the others did the same (I even heard LeBeau mutter, "Vivé France!"). I smiled and saluted back, only to feel that sense of knowing you are valued by your men. I saluted back again with this knowledge, quickly, and left them with their Luftwaffe guards (Klink and Schultz didn't bother to come tonight because of Hochstetter), never to look back. There was no regret and it was not a time to think about. It didn't matter who brought them back to Stalag 13, what they did to keep this charade going, but it wasn't a time to reflect upon it and think back. It was time for the future and what will lie ahead.

~00~

The ride to Stalag 13 was like a daze to me, a word never spoken between anyone but Vundel ordering his aides away and for his driver to go to Stalag 13. Vundel even got into Stalag 13 with no trouble and was welcomed here by Hochstetter personally, who had no idea that he coming, etc., etc. I stayed hidden in the darkness of the car so that Hochstetter or anybody, for that matter, didn't see me in the car. Klink, however stupid that he was standing at the window of his office, saw the car (I can thank anyone up there for that) and the situation as an opportunity to get the recording device into place as Hochstetter was occupied. I saw him through the window from the other side of the car, in his office, and recalled the night in which I said to him to look out for Vundel's car.

I had to sigh. Klink _has_ to keep _out_ of sight for a few more minutes with his radio and recorder. If he doesn't, then the plan is of no use to anyone and everyone loses in the end except for the Gestapo. He _has_ to be caught by Hochstetter by the time I get into the Colonel's quarters with Vundel and the timing _has_ to be perfect! I even tried reminding him that ahead of time, in the time before we left for Karl's that night, before I started out tonight. It's being controlling and such to a superior officer, in this case, but it has to be so, or else.

Vundel had ordered the car parked in the motor pool, where we prisoners usually wrecked and destroyed Klink's staff car and he led me, by the hand as if we were spring lovers, out of the car and to the barracks quickly, hiding from the lights and dodging all the Gestapo guards. I wanted to laugh with glee – Vundel was in my hands – but as soon as we went past by the cooler, I felt guilty and confounded about my feelings. Rob was in there still and probably licking the wounds that Hochstetter and his men had inflicted upon him. He might even be working against them and fighting them back with his sense of humor. He might, for all I know too, be even pacing the small space in his cell thinking when he could be free again!

I wanted to wipe away that tears that threatened to come down my eyes, but we were so near the barracks that I knew we couldn't turn back. Surely Rob would forgive me if I did this one act of infidelity so that he could be freed? Would the tears I had in my eyes count towards something or was it just all of the regret that I wasn't with him?

I grabbed the doorknob to Barracks 2 and opened it quietly as to not wake the already tired personal in there. They know of me coming back with a Gestapo General as they, too, were in on the plan. I asked them to escape when ordered to (LeBeau, Kinch, Newkirk and Carter were the ones to tell them if they judge the situation dangerous), so there is no jealousy or even any stool pigeons flapping their wings _if _anyone asked any of the prisoners unless they're tortured of course (I doubt it'll happen anyhow because all of them, I mean it, are heroes…men, but heroes). Right then, though, all I need to do was to just get Vundel through that doorway and into my trap.

We did make it back to the Colonel's quarters without a sound and that was a plus. _Anything was going to happen_, I thought as I led Vundel through the darkness by the hand and opened the door for him. We reached the other side of the barracks without any incident or noise.

"This…is it?" Vundel asked loudly as he entered the quarters. "It is so dirty."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, to indicate that we are to be quiet. "I haven't been able to be the cleaning lady lately. There has been so much to do and too many men to command. I can do that, you know." I walked in the dark to the ceiling lamp and twisted it so that the lamp could come on and the wires to the microphone can come on for Klink. I knew that he was waiting for it like I told him to (a small squeaky noise came in, indicating that the recorder was on and the act was to begin).

The light came on too and Vundel tried to turn it off and he succeeded but he managed not to turn off the recording device (there would have been another squeaky noise to indicate that it had). "You can command these men?" he asked.

I nodded my head as he moved closer to me, held onto me…it is so revolting to think about it…and said as I shrugged my shoulders, "Colonel Hogan is gone. He is to be executed soon. I have the command post now." There…just to get started off innocently enough…a random mention of Rob and off Vundel will go. Or, so I hoped.

"Yes, and I am proud to have him there. Papa Bear indeed! Why, the Gestapo has been monitoring all…" Vundel was fingering my hair then, "…sabotage ever since he came here to Stalag 13. Since that time, there has been destruction and chaos circling this very camp. We shall get him to snap open his mouth sooner than he expects. All activities have stopped since he has been in the cooler, so this must surely point to his guilt."

_Not on my watch, buddy_, I thought as Vundel moved from my hair down to my breasts. I wanted to vomit on him and it was caught in my throat once more. It wasn't the time to worry about that though. I had to wait until Vundel continued instead of doing what I wished to. I needed that information _badly_.

"Oh, Colonel Michalovich, we have no real evidence for this Colonel Hogan!" Vundel continued, laughing. "He is only a suspect that Hochstetter wants to have killed. I just told him when he and I discussed Hogan, 'Fine, grab him and kill him! Make up whatever evidence you want, or just arrest him as is. Most certainly, he is in the very center of something bigger and he will tell us eventually, if not through our methods.' He is no need to us and most certainly, because the activities have ceased, it is evidence enough to have him shot."

Vundel laughed once more, tilting his grey head back. Sick as I thought it was, I didn't expect this next move, one that would damn me. Vundel unexpectedly, and with lightning speed, stopped laughing and pushed me to my bunk and tried to get my clothes off, ripping my gown's shoulder piece; it was so perverse and malicious almost. His breath stank and his dry, cracked lips were closer than I thought.

I heard a gunshot pierce through the window pane, shattering the glass and striking one of Rob's shelves with a _clank_. I was immobile, silencing a scream that wanted to be released from my lips. _Who could that be? Were we caught? Did Klink record everything and then get caught by Hochstetter?_

Vundel was quicker than I was. He jumped from the bunk and took me with him. I was too scared. I had him into a confession and I hope Klink had it on his recording device. However, I was around Vundel, his arms dangling horribly to his side. This was the evidence that Vundel wanted, though. This was how he wanted to get rid of me because he knew of some plot against him and knew that, somehow, he had hit two birds with one stone. He knew _something_ about me, enough to get rid of me.

Hochstetter had, meanwhile, barged in with his gun from the doorway, pointing it at me. "What is the meaning of this?" he yelled. "General, why are you here?"

My neck prickled suddenly, and then I knew why: Vundel was to deceive me. This was a trap for me. Did he really sign those papers Webber gave to him, not realizing their true value? Was he too drunk or was he setting us up in a larger trap than I thought just by signing those papers? I didn't know. All I was aware of was his excuse for being in the barracks, clear after his drunken mask was lifted up. "The Jewish sorceress had me in the bunk. If I hadn't realized it when you shot the window, I would have been a goner. She was going to kill me," Vundel said, setting his accusing eyes at me. "Major Hochstetter, this woman has been meddling for top secret information and, with the Luftwaffe's help, has been trying to gain it through me. She used the men to her advantage, as well as her captors who took her out to an entertainment center, and almost had a clean escape."

I gulped, trying to look innocent because prisoners don't have weapons, but I knew that, with a ripped dress at the shoulder (which, by the way, nobody could verify where it came from unless Klink and Burkhalter wanted to admit their little plans that Vundel sort of figured out), that I was goner already. I knew that I was going to die.

"Do you think that you'd get away with this, Jewish sorceress?" Vundel asked me in my fear, the same fear I knew he saw in my eyes. "Do you think that you could take advantage of me in this state? I am of the Aryan Master Race. We _are_ superior in mind and body."

"It doesn't matter now," Hochstetter said smiling, "for she is to be on her way to Auschwitz on the orders of General Burkhalter, who has just come here on assignment. And I am sentencing her with great pleasure, as I am with Hogan's execution. She'll probably be happy there anyway, with all those Allied bombers coming through. She'll probably get killed." Hochstetter smiled with this sentence. My deep hatred for him, especially in these past few months, turned into a great trepidation with his cold words.

Before I knew it, more guards came in (Gestapo, of course). When Hochstetter motioned at me, I was chained, at the feet on his orders, and led away. It was difficult to walk and I kept my head down, only looking up when I reached the main room of the barracks. I saw that a sea of faces of the barracks, including the newly-arrived LeBeau, Kinch, Newkirk and Carter, were that of pain and misery. I just hope that they escape and obey my orders. They were goners if they stayed here. Hochstetter and his goons will figure out their part in everything and, like me, they will be but ashes in a soldier's grave.

~00~

I had this journal on me since the beginning of this mission and had it hidden deep in my gown's pocket, but I am leaving it here. As I am herded into the truck on the way to the cattle cars, I will gladly think of it being shown around the camp or even read by the others when they leave for England. I'll smile sometime later and remember the nervous words I wrote as they ask me about my life, the distant images of them pulling disgusting pranks and the way we always had a comical day in mocking the Krauts and creating a scene at roll call with Klink and Schultz. Somehow, at this moment though, I don't care anymore, for the prisoners will understand me better and, somewhere in the distant parts of the Kraut Empire, I'll be in another world and time. I only hope, too, that they will get back to England soon, to be with their loved ones once more.

Schultz has been guarding me, instead of Rob (who is on the other side of the building). I already gave him my locket, the one I always wear, to give to Barracks 2. I told him that my instructions are that it be sent to Colonel Hogan or to Father in Russia, whichever place it may land (I don't care, just as long as it is placed in the hands of another). As far as I know, with my tears, Schultz did it for me, as a final gesture of peace and humanity for the one who is to die soon. I'll miss Schultz and everyone at our barracks.

This tired woman no longer cares. Rob, if you're reading this, I am truly sorry for everything that I have done. Please send my final letter home in Russia to Father. I love you no matter what happens. I know I should have left, but it was worth it to try to get you out of your execution order. Let us meet again, my love.

To the men of Stalag 13, namely Kinch, Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter: thank you for serving your time with me, for it the worthwhile to have men like you work with against these monsters. You are all great men and I wish you all well in the future. Please, follow my orders and go home. It is not worth it to be the victims of a massacre and the martyrs of a war gone wrong.

Father, wherever you may be, I hope to find that you are alive and well after this war ends. I am sorry that I failed you, as a daughter, and died within my line of duty. I am truly sorry for the tears of grief you will shed. In the end, I'll remember you and know that you did your very best to keep me alive and to shelter me from all harm. I know you failed, but, to me, it was worth the time getting to know you and the love you shared with me. I shall love you always.

Goodbye – for I have learned that it is always hard to say it – and many farewells. Let this journal fall into the right hands. This is the end now.


	8. Success After All

**Christmas Day 1943  
****The Kantine/Mess Hall – 0656 Hours**

I, Nikola Anna Michalovich, am alive. I have seen the first sunrise at Stalag 13 since I was sent away. I am again embraced with love that is now widely known, a simple danger still. Rob is alive and still the commanding officer of the prisoners here, I am back to where I am suppose to be and Stalag 13 is back in the command of Colonel Klink. It is all that matters now, I think, and for all the years I live, I will never forget this strange journey and its end result. To be alone to write this all out, I have hidden here in the camp's kitchens/mess hall to conceal myself from the men just for a little while. I smell the revolting scents of food for Christmas dinner move through this hallway. The mess hall is empty and I know that nobody will find me here for a while for the aroma here is almost unbearable to them (I could hardly care less, for my taste and smell have not come back yet). It'll work for a while because I can bear it. Thinking back to the past few days, it is welcoming and comparably speaking, it is much better.

I don't know where to begin or how I should start about my very short misadventure. Rob had explained everything else to me, the other details in others' travels and troubles, earlier this morning when I awoke at 0415 for the early Christmas fallout Klink had demanded. His details, written through my hand obviously, about the story are included here. So, in short, I had better start from the time I was led away by a smiling Major Hochstetter, who had gleefully said his next favorite order, sent to him from a frightened Burkhalter, the Kraut General I will never forgive for as long as I live.

~00~

LeBeau, Kinch, Carter and Newkirk had gathered in the center table of the barracks and were silent for some time before speaking to the other prisoners, staring into space and not daring to talk about what had just happened. The events were just as I said was going to happen. Both of the Colonels were gone and the order, on both sides, had been to gather the men (possibly help Colonel Hogan get away as the latter asked) and escape to England and then home.

The men around them have been woken up from the commotion, something _they_ didn't exactly expect (they assumed there was going to be a general around, but nothing more), and were alert and waiting for their orders from me and Rob, the one that each colonel gave to them, something they've all waited for in such a long time. But the four didn't speak, none of them did. Both of the Colonels are goners, and they could be next, as they saw. Should they escape now or wait for a better time to go? It could all be a total misunderstanding, after all. Others who stay behind could remain where they are, if it is so, and the escapees could ruin the operation for them. So, what were the orders?

One of the men, Sergeant Tillman, broke their silence. "What are the orders from our gorgeous and most lovely Colonel M.?" he asked, acting cool and macho as he usually does, as he jumped down from his top bunk from the other side of the barracks near the Colonel's quarters. The four at the table turned to stare at him and swiveled to the other men around the barracks who only gave the same expressions.

LeBeau spoke finally, almost as if he was breaking their pact of calm for their fallen colonels. "The Kommandant asked that we escape if she is captured."

"Then what are we waiting for?" another, Private Gomez, said.

The person next to him said, "Yes, let's leave this petty hell already! We've got the tunnels and the means to escape. The Gestapo can't catch us now!"

The voices around the four were raised everywhere and before anyone at the table could answer, the sirens rang for roll call, the same sirens that Klink used when he didn't feel like having the guards provoke and gather the prisoners for roll call. It was strange that this was sounded, for the Gestapo usually came in, hustled the prisoners out, even harassed them, and forced them into a quick formation with guns at their backs. Their meager lives were measured out by the day and the fears that one would be shot for being slow wasn't silly. It was a real fear.

The minutes became stranger as time passed. When they all heard the familiar voice of Schultz, who never really called them for roll call alone since the Gestapo took over, it was a surprise. What did the Gestapo have for them? And what would happen if they all didn't answer the duty of which they all named roll call? Questions arose, questions that needed answers.

Kinch, the next in command (so Rob and I joke, because he's the most sensible of the bunch), motioned from his place at the table that they all endure this roll call and then plan for their getaway later. He knew, above all, that secrecy was the key. Indeed, they needed to keep quiet, for if the Krauts knew about their escape plans, and especially of the operation, it would really be the end.

"Rouse, everybody, rouse, rouse, rouse!" Schultz kept calling them out, and as the men in the barracks filed out quickly, they became more and more scared about what the Gestapo would have in store for them. Rob said he saw, through the cooler's window, "frightened men who had been through too much." And I agree with him. The men had seen _way_ too much in this war and it wasn't just because they were shocked, in their minds, about the cruelty of war. They were working for their respective air forces, shot down, put in a P.O.W. camp and then tortured and hurt by the Gestapo in these past few months. What more can they endure after all this and the loss of not only one colonel, but two because the other was trying to get out this tight spot?

Formation was quickly assembled and the men stood stiffly and their backs straight for they knew one wrong move or a sloppy body would mean anything. Around them, although, the bleak black uniforms did not seem to exist as it had in previous months. It was bewildering to them: the Gestapo was nowhere in sight, the Luftwaffe guards back to their posts and the idiot, Kommandant Klink, coming out to Schultz with a clipboard screaming his usual cry for a "Rrrrrreeeeepppooooorrrrrtttt!" Worse (or was it better?), it was after dawn and not the usual early morning, dark pre-dawn roll call by the Gestapo. Schultz was guarding their barracks again and calling them out for roll call as Klink came out. It was stranger that Klink was in command, as it seems. Major Hochstetter wasn't even in sight and didn't come out, demanding what Klink was doing.

The enlisted men cut their postures down and slacked a little more. _Where was the Gestapo?_ It was the main thought. It looked as if they were –

"All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant!" a happy Schultz said as he checked off every name on the clipboard and saluted his superior officer, going off to the side as the Kommandant wanted to speak to the men.

Klink himself walked forward, as brave as the day's sunshine came into view, and started his speech. The men thought it was to be the usual droll about behaving for Hochstetter and how the Gestapo was coming back as soon as they could, but it turned out to be much, much different than what they had anticipated. It seemed to be an omen of hope as Klink started, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please calm yourselves. As of early this morning, a mere hour ago, Major Hochstetter and his Gestapo sentries, including all those guards we all hated here, have left Stalag 13 permanently. I am now back in command of this outpost."

There was silence at the other end, but it wasn't out of disrespect. It was out of shock. Then it was Newkirk who started them into cheering. "Let's hear it for our 'ld Kommandant Klink!" he yelled loudly for the whole camp to hear. And there was that endless cheer that came from all parts of the camp and "it seemed to echo into the forests that even the patrols heard them. They probably started shooting when they did," Rob joked.

It took many moments before all the _Luftwaffe _(not _Gestapo_) guards could securely quiet all their prisoners down, at all the barracks. It was also a long time before Klink was able to speak again. Klink continued, "And since the Gestapo seems to have – shall I say – an incident within their walls, they have countered all accusations and executions they have granted to the prisoners." Klink turned to his left and gestured to a guard near the cooler, who opened the outer gate and went inside.

Klink swiveled back to the prisoners and smiled. "That means," he said, trying not to fall into his usual crackling laughter (triumph?), "that Colonel Hogan has been released from his stay of execution and is to stay as a prisoner here." Klink was overjoyed to have his camp back, his tone of voice indicated, so I am not surprised that he was ready to chortle with bliss.

The cheering, I was told later, was deafening. Yes, without a doubt, did Colonel Hogan walk out of the doors of the cooler with that guard, hurt and unshaven because of his ten days in there, but alive and well for everyone to see. Most of his bruises and cuts were still there and it caused some prisoners to wince, but he was _alive_! There was joy and some hope. There was someone dear to the men of the camp that came out alive. One colonel is living, but the other…?

The guard left Rob as soon as he reached closer to the formation. Rob, of course, had other ideas. He went over to the Kommandant and saluted him. "Good morning, Sir," he said as the enthusiastic yelling for him subsided somewhat. "Isn't it a lovely morning? It looks like it is going to snow later on, though. I can feel it." Rob paused. "Oh, have there been any proposals of surrender yet?" There was laughter from the men again. "I heard through the windows that the Gestapo was going to bring them by the truckload later on. You know, news has been scanty in that cell. I only hear what's out the window."

There was some more mirth from the men in the looser formation, but Klink wasn't happy and I am sure that he felt like putting Rob right back into the cooler for his insolent comments just as he came right out of there from a hellish experience. "Just get back into shape, Colonel Hogan," Klink now said through clenched teeth, "and you just forget about the little incident in the cooler."

Rob could only smile and head into formation, but he knew, even before he reached his men, that someone was missing. And so, when he stood by his comrades, Rob faced Klink and asked the question that nobody wanted to answer for him. "Kommandant, where is our lovely Colonel Michalovich? I would have thought that she was a ghost here the way she is standing here with the men."

Suddenly, everyone stood still and there was silence. Nobody stirred, after so much celebration, and I am sure that Klink was just as equally shocked to find Rob asking such a question. The reply to such a question required a carefully-crafted answer said with some dignity, but Klink wasn't quite a master at that yet. Instead, he chose the easiest way out: to tell the commanding officer of the prisoners that she was gone for the moment and transferred out of Stalag 13, on the orders of his superior. It was the truth, after all.

"She has been – disposed of right now," Klink said with some grief in his voice, choking down his words, "and transferred out of here to another camp by the orders of General Burkhalter. The order came earlier this morning, just an hour before Major Hochstetter was told to leave. Dddddiiiiisssss-missed!" Klink saluted the now soundless band of prisoners and went back to his office where he was going to see Burkhalter (speaking of the devil), who had just pulled in by car behind him just a few precious hours after the last visit, with more orders to mouth.

In the meantime, outside of the Kraut bubble, LeBeau, Kinch, Newkirk and Carter gathered around Rob and tried to pretend to be stimulated. They, naturally, yelled about his well-being until Rob asked his question again, silencing them all again. Why can't Colonel Hogan receive an answer? Why, more importantly, didn't the prisoners escape as he asked them to? He knew that some plan was hatched between the High Command in Germany (via General Burkhalter) and the prisoners here, to get the Gestapo out of a camp that is not theirs. The plan was supposed to be conspired with the next colonel and now, she's gone. _What is going on here?_

Rob looked to his men and sighed. He had one last resort and was afraid to use it because of the answer it would bring. "Now, tell me," Rob said, "and _that's an order_." Rob made sure that he was forceful and he knew that he would get an answer this way, but it wasn't the one that he wanted to hear. But it was the only way to get something out of them.

Kinch was the one who answered him. Oh, it was Kinch, always the one who brought everyone back to reality, and he said those words as he shoved his hands into his pockets, "She's been sent back…to…where she came from." He said the last part quickly and Rob knew what he meant. It was also Kinch that held my journal and my locket with Rob's ring dangling from it. All of the men, including Schultz, trusted him with it because of the close friendship he had with Rob and how much confidence I placed in him too.

"Colonel," Kinch added, "she left you these…" and he trailed in his sentence, handing them, the journal and locket with ring, to Rob, who took them mutely. Rob understood what was going on and it all dawned on him.

Rob moved with such quickness to his quarters and shut the door behind him. He placed an order, and his _do not disturb_ sign up on his door so that nobody could to bother him and listen to him cry.

~00~

I knew what Rob did as he shifted through his quarters, pacing back and forth. He didn't need to say what he did. His nervousness told me everything, his red eyes indicating that he cried for a very long time.

At the time Rob thought everything was lost, though, the quarters was empty of his one-time companion, one that was always close to him and one who he also couldn't afford to lose. It was the second or third time Rob had to give me up and that time, he realized how ready he wasn't for it.

I had left my footlocker unlocked, for I knew in my heart that I wasn't coming back after the mission. I also knew that Rob would go through all the memories that I had left in there, all my clothes and personal effects that London had sent, and I was right. All the pictures, clothing, written accounts and journal and locket were at his disposal. He could do as he wished with them. I could even picture in my mind now that he would have tortured himself by going through every memory I placed in that locker, every piece of ourselves we have created, and that portion in his heart was broken.

My footlocker was left touched and its contents scattered as each and every memory was pulled out. But as soon as Rob saw piles of pictures, underneath my old Auschwitz uniform, and eventually the photograph of me, him and Michael with our families at the hospital on the bottom of my locker, the place where I have decided to keep my pain, he lost it. His flowing tears and whacking sobs, so uncharacteristic of him, had dampened the picture and he couldn't be stopped or comforted. It was the first time, in a long time, that he released his anger, sadness and despair in a continuing moan. He climbed to the top bunk and cried there, his face to his pillow with the picture caught in between.

Thoughts, so reflective of mine from long ago, etched his mind. _All those times…all those times were for nothing…she's gone. She's gone from me._

~00~

When Rob finally emptied himself of tears, he was still laying on his top bunk with the last picture clutched into his hands and his face in his pillow. When he heard a knock on his door, he had to look respectable and not the nervous ruin that he was then. He jumped off his bunk, the picture on the pillow, combed his hair and checked that he was good enough for anyone to see, and he was. The redness of his eyes was mostly gone (the ridges remained the same) and he became the Colonel Hogan that everyone knew. It was safe to call out, "Come in." He expected one or some of his men as they were concerned for him. Instead, it was a sweet and delightful surprise that it was Schultz and not one of the alarmed men in the barracks.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz said, "Kommandant KLINK and General Burkhalter want you in the Kommandant's office."

"What do they need from me, Schultz?" Rob asked as he reached under his pillow and took out his secret stash of chocolate bars (the supply was then sloppy and melted from the heat of his head and his anguish, but Schultz would not have minded at all). He waved them in Schultz's direction and got his usual reaction. Schultz quickly took whatever Rob had in his hands (even Rob didn't know what he gave Schultz) and waited until Schultz was through with most of the chocolate, which made the Sergeant's hands become brown and reeking of chocolate.

Through fistfuls of softened chocolate stuffed in the Sergeant's mouth, Rob got his answer and some information. "Mr. Big SHOT and the Kommandant…want – to…talk to you about…the pretty colonel. I – think…they want her – back…here. It's SOME-thing about you – coming to bring…her back."

Sorrow crept back into Rob and I knew he fought the urge to shed tears again. "Thanks, Schultz," was all Rob said – all that he _could_ say – as he went out the door, ignoring the curious and saddened stares of his fellow concerned prisoners. He refused to see the medic, he had locked himself in his quarters and they all heard their colonel sob like a child. Why else would the others be so concerned? All Rob was worried about at that moment was surviving without me. It wasn't his wellbeing that concerned him most. He wanted everything back _exactly_ as it was before, even with the same people.

Besides which, more important issues and conflicts pestered at Rob like a sore thumb. What did General Burkhalter and Kommandant Klink want anyway? And why would they want to talk to him _now_? More importantly, why do they need him to bring _her_ back from the dead?

"Colonel Hogan, I am so glad to see you back," General Burkhalter said to Rob as soon as he came into Klink's office. "Sit, please." As usual, Burkhalter was playing nice-nice and when he usually does, we all knew that the General wanted something or anyone else, for that matter.

"It's such an honor to see you again, General," Rob replied as he seated himself in front of Klink's desk knowing that they both wanted something, "but what should I say this honor is about?"

Rob was being vigilant. Whatever was going on had to be this serious if General Burkhalter called him in and needed something from him. Klink did not say a word about this sudden meeting and was stoic in his appearance, somewhat of a change because, for once, he had obeyed an order without it being spoken (shutting up, I mean). Burkhalter, on the hand, was pacing the office and was appearing to be nervous, grabbing a full glass of alcohol from atop of Klink's cabinet, the one opposite of the main doorway. He started pacing again with the drink in his hand and finally stopped his pacing and drank the glass with one gulp, something unusual. Then, the glass hit Klink's desk with Klink jumping and the General stood up straight. He faced Rob and admitted something – a fault. He was blaming himself for something.

"Colonel Hogan," Burkhalter began with his hands behind his back, "it has come to my understanding that you and Colonel Michalovich have a relationship with each other."

"I didn't know you could put two and two together," Rob joked about such a delicate and secretive topic with a twinkle in his eyes. When he saw the anger in both pairs of Kraut eyes, Klink's included, he said, "Sorry, bad taste."

Burkhalter continued anyway. "Colonel, it has also come to my attention that you both have been together for years, as it appears to me through your familiarity. And so the Gestapo says. They even have a dual file on the both of you now that new evidence has come to light and been leaked." Burkhalter paused. "Now, when the Gestapo was here, I made a deal with the Colonel with the understanding that if she didn't get the Gestapo out –"

"It was with _my_ help of course, General!" Klink said with a smile.

"Shut up, Klink!" Burkhalter yelled before talking to Rob again in a more irritated tone. "Now, Colonel Hogan, I told her that if she didn't get the Gestapo out, she'd be shipped to Poland. If she did, you'd be out of the cooler and not be executed. General Vundel, who was formally in charge of Major Hochstetter, has been arrested by the Gestapo itself and is going to be tried as a traitor because of incriminating papers his aide turned in and most surprisingly, it was with her help and without their knowledge." Muttering, Burkhalter, said, "Of course, the aide has somehow disappeared, probably a work of Vundel…" Then, speaking up, he continued, "We also have no idea where she got this help, either. Now, I have sent her back –"

"And you want me to come with you to get her out," Rob interjected, remembering what Schultz said earlier.

"You can say that," Burkhalter said. "But remember this, Hogan: you are a prisoner and will travel as such. You can verify who she is by asking only three intimate questions, help her get out with the proper paperwork signed and travel back to Stalag 13. That is all."

I knew Rob would do it and he did. He came to get me out of the festering hellhole I had wished never existed. Now, to where I was, faraway from Germany…


	9. To Get a Colonel Back

After Major Hochstetter grabbed me, he had his men, ever so quickly, stuffed me into the cooler with Schultz guarding me, before his duties to the Luftwaffe were given back to him merely a couple of hours later, as the Gestapo left. After I wrote last, at about 0500 hours, they had me in the truck, at gunpoint (about five rifles were pointed at me and all five men were not afraid to shoot me) and chained at my feet and hands. They, unlike me, were ready to progress onto the next stop: the truck that would take me to the train station a few miles away, the last stop for all those who had hopes and are now about to lose them in the fiery pit of hell.

I had never been so terrified in my life. It crept over me and would never leave, even as I tried to breathe in and out, deeply and then coming in gasps.

So brutally was I watched that, when I came to the train station, the Gestapo guards laughing at this agony. Lost in a sea of people ahead with my chains taken off, I was shoved into another cattle car with over fifty other optimistic women and children. Off I went to hell, with these good people. There was no privacy, no love or even family and friends for me. I was alone, so utterly alone, and, with the people stuffed inside with me, it was unbearable. I missed Rob and the men miserably and wondered if I'll ever see them again.

In these circumstances, as I knew and not everyone else, it is every man, woman and child for themselves. We cannot help each other in this fight unless we are to perish together. It is the decent thing to stay with those who die with you, even if they didn't wish it or didn't expect it. We suffer together; gladly, will we die together.

In only a few short hours, we are there, in a dim morning, a weak winter sun lettings its rays shine on us. The train went by so fast and I had no time to think about what I was going to do when I got there. There were empty thoughts indescribable to human and paper. I guess I can say, though, that my being felt where I was going – feeling the pain of those already at the camp – than with these less-than hopeful people. I have learned from my other fellow sufferers, through the gossip mills as they talked around me and my empty thoughts, that since the very minor rebellion from some past month, the trains have been traveling quicker. My mind knew that more people are going to their deaths sooner than expected. It is, truly, the Nazis' final solution to some problem they perceived to have existed.

My nightmare was a blur as I stepped out of the cattle car. I was processed again as a perpetual night filled my eyes. My left arm was re-tattooed with my fading serial number as fear pierced my heart again, sharp as that needle. My old uniform had been left behind at Stalag 13, so I was provided with a new one with my green triangle back on it. I was still considered to be a professional criminal and not a worker.

Fear was soon replaced with memories. I remember the station where I first was shaven, except now, I am tattooed there. I remember the first time I was seen naked by a guard, who is still there, laughing at the new prisoners. I remember the times Nancy and I went to work at the factories and the horrendous spaces of wide-eyed skeletons and white beings that should never be. Oh, G-d, help them…

I was never conscious when I was tattooed the first time, so it was a horror to me what they did to us, and especially to the children here, the innocent children who came here in terror – no family to look after them half the time – and the needle pierced their skin. The screaming stabbed my heart worse than my fear, the first feeling I felt after pure fright took over me. Pain seemed to be mingled together with fear.

All I could commit to memory afterward was the cold and running out with other souls. The gas chambers were still in full use and the guards needed us to run and make sure that we are healthy enough for work before thinking of shooting us or even considering us as worthy contestants handed over to the famous gas chambers. So, around and around in a circle I went, over and over again, I ran and ran. I am so tired and I don't think of ever stopping. I am a cloud, I float away; there are knives on my feet as I run and there will be a sharper pain when I stop, I know that I cannot stop…and more importantly, I run for my life: for Rob, Father, the men at Stalag 13 and my family in Bridgeport.

It is only at another phase, nighttime (so early this time of year), that I was ordered to stop. My life was spared for the day, and I have been chosen to bury bodies at night and work in the hospital wing with Mengele at day. He'll know me in an instant anyway, so this will not be a happy reunion. I knew that he'll remember me and I'll have to deal with his sick experiments once more.

I am weary but there is no rest in sight. There is, of course, no sleep for me as I was ordered to a block and told to come back to the cemetery within the house. And worse, the bullets have found their way up, my being limping to Block 19 to settle for a short break. A long walk, I thought that I was a dead woman. I knew that if Auschwitz and its contents didn't get me, these wounds will.

~00~

It was back at the barracks, after the meeting in Klink's office, that Rob received the details of my outrageous and very chancy plan from the men. It was from them, and the shouts from the other men, that told Rob the truth. No details were left out, especially from the same men who were constantly told to go escape when they felt the breath of danger on their backs, but they, as loyal men and heroes, refused to leave.

Rob was fingering my journal as he listened to them talk of my grace, skill and sheer determination (I knew he read some of it and was dubious about what happened still because I do exaggerate sometimes) and already hung my locket and ring around his neck, far from anyone's sight, under his uniform. Rob kept to himself. His anguish and tears had died down, but not the dread that I was already dead.

Rob listened to them as they all sat in the center table in the main room of the barracks to talk. Their shame at this happening was apparent. "Colonel Michalovich said that it was dangerous, and that the men, and certainly any one of us, could leave as they wished," Kinch said as Rob bookmarked a page in the journal with his finger. "There was no stopping her, Colonel Hogan. She sacrificed herself and it was almost as if she would revel in it. It seemed to be redemption for her. Every step she would tell us to leave, and even in the end, when she said it might not work, she said to order the men to flee for England. She even said to help you escape from the cooler on the way if we could, if we decided to escape, and if everything was out of hand. She didn't wish us to be a party to her schemes unless we so chose to."

"She most certainly 'ook the blame, Colonel," Newkirk added quietly, "and it was Klink and Burkhalter in the end who 'one her in."

"The Colonel most c-certainly used her best skills," Carter included, in the voice of a sullen child. Newkirk looked at him, about ready to hit him, but he decided not to that time as they all shared in this great catastrophe. Carter did make a point, though, adding quickly, "In a nice way though, b-boy – Sir! She was beautiful! When she was performing, she was sure prettier! It was like real magic!"

"A real bombshell now," LeBeau said in misery, the total opposite of Carter's enthusiasm about the plans earlier. "She's surely made that certain."

"Wait a minute now, fellows," Rob said quietly, feeling some anticipation as he listen to this song of praise. "What if I said that I was given to chance to take her back? That there'll be a nice train ride to the countryside this Christmas?"

Many faces lit up. Hope was in the air this Christmas? Maybe everything was going to be all right after all this holiday season? It was a miracle that the Luftwaffe was back and their operation was back on track. Was it possible?

"What do you mean, Kommandant? Did that filthy Kraut General admit to making a slip?" LeBeau asked with surprise. He didn't even bother to show some anger about something as trivial as a Kraut admitting something they did wrong without the Russian Front being attached to the action.

"Well," Rob said, "let's just say that we need to be prepared for the person in her return journey back here. And I'm not talking about snowshoes or sleigh rides, either. Just make sure there is hot water in the showers, some privacy and some nice, warm food. It'll be a long ride, but well worth the quick trip to and back."

~00~

_I played the fool today  
I dream of vanishing into the crowd  
Longing for home again…_

The lyrics kept pushing into my brain, this new feeling of longing for home and those I love. That night, I am too busy to write and would not be able to anyhow because of the rule of forbidden paper. Besides that regulation, there is also that other little problem: there is no paper to express myself, no other part of me to share and counter my ego. I feel doomed to walk through the remainder of my days, alone.

I am only burying the dead here, so many bodies that couldn't be burned in the chambers, already so full of bodies and bringing ashier residue into the surrounding barren countryside, if there such thing here. So, in digging and always concentrating on this teary work absolutely, I hear a name being called out in a sharp voice, one that would have made an inmate cringe with fear because they all knew that it meant Death, or by some slim stroke of luck, some transfer elsewhere. Then again, the latter has no chance of ever coming true.

_Home is a feeling that I buried in you  
That I buried in you…  
I'm all right, I'm all right  
It only hurts when I'm breathing_

Yes, doesn't this place install a sense of fear and hurt when you're breathing? I am longing here for home with such intensity and picturing the family in Bridgeport, with Father and his co-patriots. I hear their voices in the distance. I never dared to break my visions of home as I dig and roll bodies to the ditches, with no gloves or anything to keep the touch of Death – clammy, white and slick – off of me. Then I heard that there was another voice calling out again, a guard. _Why are they calling someone's name?_ It is the middle of the ashy night, Christmas Eve to be exact, and too late to do so unless they mean to take somebody away to the Black Wall? I can't think of Death, but think that I shouldn't stare into the eyes of the guards. They take it as a threat._ Don't stare at them. Don't look into their eyes…_


	10. A Perfect Christmas After All

_The window through which nothing hides  
And everything sings  
I am counting the signs  
And cursing the miles in-between…_

"Michalovich, 8547960, stand forward please!" a sentry, spitting as he called this name, is standing over the group of gravediggers I am working with and each is hoping for a way out, and envy to those who are called away to Death, or even stay alive, away from this hellish place. "Michalovich, please stand forward."

I dropped whatever I was holding, a shovel (who handed it to me in the first place and where did I get it?) and stepped forward. "I am Michalovich," I feebly said. I am a sorry excuse for an U.S. officer, and know it well. I am stuck here – twice even! – and then, I can picture the reports High Command will surely receive, a joke really: _She was able to die and she knows about it, accepts it and goes on. She is yanked away from her fellow workers who continue to dig the graves and never gaze into the eyes of the guards. Then, she is lead away, someplace, most likely never to return again._

It was a scene that all could imagine if they dared to. However, it was much the opposite of what it was (I even had the thought then) and I didn't allow myself to hope for such. Roughly examined, I was led to an office, the Head's place, the Shadow to those who know him (inmates in the camp, I mean), in which he watches all activity and laughs. He is the gloom of this part of the Nazi regime, the giver and taker of Life. We are slaves to his wake and whim. He controls us, the puppets, who slave ourselves and work to the Death and for the Dead. If you fool him or if anyone interferes with his plans, he'll either take your life or those you love: anything to torment and torture you.

Thoughts and fears passed through my mind once more. _Why does he want with me? Was it my character that attracted him to me or was it because he saw that it was the second time I am here?_ I didn't want to know, really. I wanted to go back to work.

The guard opened the door for me (strange enough, as I thought it was a kind deed to suck me into some false sense of security, before I was killed) to an office where it was warm, cozy even. The man behind the desk was talking with someone, a large Luftwaffe General, and a prisoner was stuck in between them, an American with a colonel's hat and dark brown bomber jacket. As soon as they heard the door click to a close, two of the three men looked to see me. The American prisoner gasped at me as I stood flabbergasted, enough as it was the last day or so. It was Rob; it was really Rob, _alive_, with the Luftwaffe General Burkhalter. So that means…?

"Colonel Hogan, make sure it is her," General Burkhalter ordered in a panic.

The Shadow, the Head, stood with them smiled evilly at me, knowing of Burkhalter's panicked state. It was a sure sight that he wanted me done away with anyway and it didn't matter which way it meant, just as long as I was out of the way of his plans, whatever they may be.

Meanwhile, Rob walked over to me and slowly, as if he wanted some suspense, pulled my left uniform sleeve up. I felt his touch, it was so gentle and tepid, and I was shivering for it tickled through all the cold, so warm he was. He sighed with relief when he saw the dark tell-tale tattoo, but he wasn't satisfied nor was he enthused with what happened to me, and neither was the Head or General Burkhalter, who wanted to make sure that it was really me and not some imposter.

"Ask your questions, Hogan, and make sure it is her so that we can get out of here!" an angry and frightened Burkhalter barked at Rob again. I bet that this place was just as fearful and dark to Burkhalter as it is to everyone else that comes here as a prisoner. I wasn't surprised. Anyone who places themselves in the clutches of this hellish pit will be just as frightened as those who are forced to work and live here. Burkhalter was probably just as frightened about what his government is doing to people, if he has any humanity at all. Or is he just fearing for his life like Klink does?

Rob looked into my eyes. I felt his brown-eyed glare and he gripped my hands with his without any of the others seeing. He knew it was me, but he had to suit the Shadow and Burkhalter, so he began with questions I knew I had to answer, in a whisper. "Where, when and under what circumstances did we meet?"

I closed my eyes and printed that image of the snowy February day years and years ago before answering in detail. I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible and my answers must make everyone else convinced that I am who I am. I said, "February 14, 1928 was the exact date we met. It was in a back alleyway, where my step-brothers sought to kill me, in the middle of a snowy Bridgeport, Connecticut. It was an unusual winter…we usually had rain…but it was a blizzard. Your eldest brother Ted, who is two years older than you, saw me and yelled at them to stop and you were just along for the ride. I didn't know if you were just walking with him or annoying him with your jokes, as you usually do, but you both found me and took me to your place. I remember fuzzy details after that."

Burkhalter and the Head was impressed and looked at Rob to ask the next question. I was nervous; it seemed so much bigger than proving myself to the men at Stalag 13 because it was like a test. It was to see if I can move my token, pass Go and collect my money. So, knowing this, Rob asked the next question, one of the most painful questions. I knew he had to ask it, for it was so personal next to nobody knew about it and the only one who knew about it in this room was me, except maybe if Rob told Burkhalter. "What are the names of our children?"

I answered, about ready to cry my eyes out at that moment. I opened them to Rob, with much pain, whispered, "We had a child, Michael Robert Hogan, born on October 6, 1932, in Bridgeport. We were not married. I was nineteen years old and you were twenty-three. Michael died exactly a week later. There was no cause why, he just turned blue and died. He…suffocated, they said. He wasn't a strong child." I paused. "We had no more children afterward."

I felt the grip from Rob's hand become tighter on my hands. He knew that same pain and it was so unusual in him not to use his usual jokes to hide his greatest fears. That time, we had silence.

I shut my eyes tightly to block away the tears that threatened to come down hard. Still, there was more and I felt a loosening in Rob's grip on my hands. Maybe there is to be the last question? I didn't know, because it was so silent, until Rob spoke again. "What is the inscription on both of our rings and where are they both located?"

I opened my eyes and let out a sigh. So far, I was passing the test, and this was just the icing on the cake: the end was in sight and I knew it. I knew I was going to be free, but I couldn't show any eagerness yet so I answered soberly and thoughtfully. "Both of our rings have the inscription _Love is forever entwined to us_ because of a poem I wrote about our bond. It was a relation to the lines 'entwined forever – it's time to pass it over'. We both thought marriage to be rubbish at the time. We were that young and careless and so, we gave them back to each other. I have yours on the same chain I hold my locket which has held priceless pictures of my parents and myself while the other side remained empty. My ring has hung on various chains in the past next to anything that held onto your neck, which, recently, has been your dogtags."

I let out a loud _whoosh_ of breath and collapsed into Rob's arms, a dangerous thing to do, and held onto him for what seemed to be the longest time. I couldn't cry out, but I was relieved and the fear was lifted off of my shoulders. I was free…I knew that I was going to be freed. And I was _alive_.

"Then it is settled," the Shadow said suddenly. Turning to the guard who just opened the door, the Head, the Shadow of Death, ordered, "Take the prisoners to the train car and make sure they make it back to Stalag 13 _alive_. If they try to escape, shot them and make _sure_ they're dead." It was a generous order, indeed.

I didn't know how or when, but two other guards came in and grabbed me and Rob by the scuffs of our necks and dragged us out of the camp where we heard screaming and so many others working for their freedom. I bid the place such a farewell, wishing that all was well for all of those who entered. I do not envy them and do not wish to inflict more pain upon them.

As I was dragged by my feet by the guards, eventually walking after a few yards with Rob by my side as they let us go, I never felt more alive than before. Freedom, the air in which I breathed, never tasted so sweet.

~00~

The train ride back was bumpy, but at least it was only me and Rob in the cattle car and the air quality was finer than earlier. The dingy scent had been aired out by the cold winds and the cars themselves washed away with the snow through prisoner labor. It was empty of all feeling of fear and it left me with some dream that I might see the New Year 1944, at Stalag 13, with Rob.

To the right, near the door, only a single guard watched us, a rifle in his hands, as the two of us slouched down its wall in silence. The guard looked slightly younger than Jerry, Rob's youngest brother, and I knew that the guard wasn't up at the military age either. He looked to be about my nephew Jozef's age, about sixteen or seventeen. He certainly didn't look like he shaved either: a child's face, bare and without the scars of life on him.

As soon as we were pushed into the car, Rob grabbed me and had us sit in the corner walls where nobody could see us (hear, more like) but the guard, and as time went on, we cuddled and slid downward as if we were a small pile of clothes. He knew that I was cold and took off his bomber's jacket just to keep me warm, and took something off his neck – my locket and his ring. I took it back from him as soon as he pulled it out and put it back around my neck. I also accepted the jacket so that we didn't get into another argument about what was best for each other. I knew that Rob was worried about me more than I was about him.

I snuggled next to Rob (he held me tighter in return, as if protecting me from that guard) and studied him. All of the bruises he received were, by far, not yet healed and very violet-colored indeed. Most had, more or less, blended into his skin, clammy and blue with the cold. His lower lip was also that same hue of purple from being hit too often and his forehead displayed a thick cut. Only his hair masked that cut, while his hair, as I fingered it somewhat, remained white at the sides, more so than usual. Rob was really showing his age. I knew that I was appearing to be older as well and have seen in a small mirror that I was growing white in my hair, too.

It was an awkward silence, but after an hour or so, when we rolled into Germany at about 1950 hours and the train stopped for some prisoners of the German State (situated in another cattle car), I couldn't take this silent treatment anymore. I broke from Rob's already too-tight grip, the jacket threatening slip off of me, and asked, "Why Rob? Why did you come back for me?" I pulled myself up bravely, went deeper into his jacket and was already bumping into his personal belongings. I felt his knife, which I knew he kept as a weapon, in the inside right pocket (was that a temptation?), his wallet and some other random objects.

Rob turned back to me. He just put his arm back around me and said, "It was the same reason you did." That was all he needed to say: he loved me, he really did, and he went after me the same way and reason that I went after him and planned to destroy the Gestapo in the long run and to get them out of Stalag 13.

I snuggled closer to Rob once more, feeling one with him again, almost, because of where we are. So, it was a surprise to me when Rob slid his arm into his jacket after answering me and his arm coming out quickly in pain, screaming, "Ow! Dammit, Nikki, what do you have in there, a shard of glass? You just realize that you can actually protect yourself?"

The guard over by the entranceway raised his gun and pointed at it us as the train started to move again, its prisoners tucked away in other cars. I was afraid for a minute and said in rapid German, "It is nothing. We're just talking!" His gun was lowered immediately and his feelings of anticipation were dashed by this dubious explanation.

I didn't know what Rob was talking about, though. "What do you mean?" I asked as I turned my attention back to Rob. "I am not hiding anything."

Rob groaned in frustration and took off the jacket from me and then I saw what he meant. I had not felt anything since I came to the camp, but I saw before me blood all over my clothes. The bullet in my side has found its way through, fully, and now, it broke my skin. I was so frightened that I just instantly took some clothing off of me, anything that ripped from the uniform, and applied so much pressure to it that I had to hold my lips back from screaming. I breathed in and out deeply, panting in pain. Rob sighed and held me as he should, not knowing what else to do.

There is, naturally, something up Rob's sleeve about this incident and it hasn't been laid out to me yet. I know him. Rob isn't one to just sit back and watch it all happen. He'll do something to me soon enough.

~00~

In any case, all I remembered from the rest of the journey back to Stalag 13, blurry as they are to me already, was Rob holding me and refusing to let go…getting back to the station and the journey back to the camp. Schultz picked us up in town from the train station and then drove the potholed truck ride back.

It was only Christmas Day already, about 2400 hours when we arrived at Stalag 13, and the men, surprised and happy that I am alive and well from that camp a second time, cheered as we entered. They all gathered around the truck as it moved in and was parked (Schultz waddled as fast as he could away from the riots), dying to see me and Rob alive together. It was a dreary evening to be back in Germany, but to see myself and the people I care about alive is better for me. This hard and trying mission to rid ourselves of the Gestapo is done and over with and we have _succeed_.

Afterward, I felt a warm shower down my back, a hot cup of coffee in my hands, a humid fire in the barracks and some love and appreciation from the men. Many thanks from the men came around the camp until Kommandant Klink came out of his bed, in pajamas way after midnight mind you, and ordered that roll call be at 0415 hours as punishment for being around the camp after hours. It was a far cry from being nice, because it was Christmas after all. At least we all knew that everybody was safe, but sadly in this mangy hellhole for probably another year or so.

At that time, though, I was laughing and it wasn't of the misery of the men, but the circumstances of it almost, cruel as it is. It was only two hours before fallout and the men, grumbling about such atrocity, went their way back to the barracks. We may have to have two hours of sleep, but seeing as it is Christmastide, I don't think the men would care.

I smiled, tired and hurt, as I stood by the window of Barracks 2, the one next to the tunnel's entranceway, in my spare uniform. I watched the men go back to their bunks, less than confident that they would have a rest day later, and felt Rob's hand on my shoulder. "I think it's about time we sleep too," he whispered, reminding me that some prisoners actually went to sleep as they were supposed to. And so, this tired colonel went to her bunk. I admit I didn't sleep much more than an hour but I think it was not a huge loss. There are a lot more important things to think about other than my sleep and today, as Christmas Day winds down, I rejoice that I am here and I am somewhat grateful that Rob and I are together in this place called Stalag 13. The place isn't ideal for a holiday such as this, but the true meaning of it was never hidden from me as we celebrate this great day.

Oh, geez, I never knew I wrote this long! It is after 1000 hours already, about ten hours since I have arrived here somewhat safe and sound. Rob, Kinch, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau are most likely looking for me already, and are probably here since I am nowhere else in sight. I hear some voices beyond these walls and above the caroling from the different men I hear some joyous shouts…

Or is that Schultz celebrating with some beer?


	11. Tricked Into a Hospital Stay

**December 28  
****The Hammelburg Hospital – 1740 Hours**

You may wonder WHY I am in a hospital in Hammelburg right now. It is not because something went wrong with the men during all the partying at this Christmastide nor was it any of the German officers at Stalag 13. And sadly, it wasn't Klink the F.I.N.K., who kept perfect hours and company this past Christmas. No, it was really me that is lying in this warm bed while Schultz is guarding the doorway, checking on me every few hours. I snort, for why would I want to escape anyway? I am weak as a kitten and here I am, writing in this damned hospital! I can write better anyhow, I can feel myself moving without any pain. Yet I cannot walk with ease and my legs feel like water as I try to get out of bed.

This is all Rob's fault, I swear it! That night in the cattle car made him think and this is where I land because of it!

It happened this way: the voices I heard outside of the Kantine were the men talking in the doorway on the other side of the hallway. Kinch, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau, along with Rob, were talking about something, but I couldn't hear what it was unless I moved forward to a place where they'd know I was eavesdropping. So, I resided where I was and contemplated those lines I wrote earlier, being home and thinking about how it hurts to be alone, breathing in the air that you know might have been in someone else's body. I became so engrossed into thinking about it that I didn't notice that Rob came up from behind me and hugged me.

I jumped up in fear, thinking it was one of the German guards, but it was Rob. I saw a flash of his bomber's jacket before I ever tried to fight, as I always do. Rob, however, smiled at me, that flirtatious and mischievous smile of his, and held onto me closer. I returned this random affection as I stood up, thinking it strange that he was doing this especially when there are others around the place. My suspicions were aroused further as he said, "You know, I never gotten this close to you in a long, long time?"

I backed off immediately, angry. I was more curious, to be honest, and said to display my distaste and less of this curiosity, "What do you want?" I knew Rob wanted something, for if he hadn't presented his love for me like that in a long time and to do something totally forbidden (to us, anyhow) meant he wanted something. What could he want from me _this_ time though?

Then I looked to the doorway, where four faces peered out from behind the door and then I knew something was wrong, and that the four of them – Kinch, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk – were conspiring with their commanding officer against me somehow. I was disgusted further and shot the four of them a threatening look, one of which they knew to run from because they identify that on _sight_ as me being angry with them. You do not further the anger of a wounded person nor do you try to tamper with her promises and threats of strangulation and then death.

"Nikki, I'm so surprised at you," Rob said as he fingered the hair under the cap I always wore. "I thought you knew me better. Miss Saucy Tongue, are you striking a blow to my self-worth and ego?"

"Yes! And you know, I thought I _did_ know you so well – Sir!" I said with some spite, moving slowly away from his grip and clever words. "All I'm wondering is what you want from me this time."

"Well, now that you mentioned it," Rob said pensively, putting his hand to his chin and rubbing it as if he was remembering something, "I wanted to show you something. The Kommandant has allowed us go head out into Hammelburg with Schultz, outside the fence. I was wondering if we could have a small joyride on Christmas this year. You know, to celebrate what has happened and that we're all together again. It was what you wanted, wasn't it?"

I thought for a moment. _I'll follow him and see what he wants_, I pondered. _It is strange, though, that we are allowed outside the fence, especially with Klink paranoid about this record of his_._ But then again, he could be up to something._ "All right, Rob," I said with a sigh. "Take me away." I was even being a smart-ass and holding out my hands, as if I was surrendering to the enemy and expecting handcuffs to hold back my anger. It certainly felt as if Rob was going to be my enemy, for he already has been everything else to me: a friend, lover, partner, estranged from me and even a competitor.

Rob smiled. It was a secret smile that I knew had something to do with the other four men showing their faces to me and leading me outside. On the way, Rob grabbed my journal and handed to Kinch and ordered LeBeau to go get my coat, for I had purposely forgotten it so that Rob might think I was elsewhere in the barracks or in the tunnels, cold as they are this time of year. Otherwise, Carter, Kinch and Newkirk followed us (we were heading to the motor pool) and snickering as if there _really_ was some devious plan that Rob had created. Within a few minutes, LeBeau had returned with my coat, with my full rank inscribed at the shoulders, and put it on me gently. _What is really going on here?_ I thought._ They're really sucking up to me today. Is it because they're being nice, that it's the holiday season or is it really one of Rob's plans?_

Schultz was waiting for me and Rob in Klink's staff car. Klink was standing there also, next to him, shivering and barking at Rob as soon as we reached the motor pool, "What you are waiting for, Colonel Hogan? What took so long? I had someone waiting in my quarters." _Wait a minute, now. Why is Klink around here? And why should he complain about how much time we take to come to the motor pool?_

"It just took a lot of explaining, Kommandant. You know women," Rob answered as he opened the door for me and stuffed my head into the car. I struggled for a minute, thinking something was wrong, but I knew better. Rob was underhanded, cunning even, but he wouldn't out me into any real danger. And so, I stopped my struggling and cooperated with him quickly. He even came into the car with me, on the other side (Schultz took the drivers' seat obviously) and snuggled next to me. The car started as the prisoners and Klink backed away from the car, the gates were ordered to be opened and we were off.

I was even enjoying myself for a while, staring out the window, having a few private moments with Rob, and relaxing for once in my life. But when we hit Hammelburg, I knew that it wasn't a joyride in the country. _Why were we going to town?_ Surely, Klink wouldn't allow us there, especially if people are going to see us.

The answer hit me as soon as Schultz drove into the other side of town, in which the medical units are: the hospital. It hit me like a ton of bricks. _Oh, G-d…_

I broke free from Rob's grip, which had been on me since the ride began, and screamed almost at the top of my lungs, "The hospital? Rob, what in goddamned hell is going on here?" I tried to door, but it was too late to escape from this. Already the car stopped and a nurse was there and opening the car door for me, trying to escort to me the doors of the hospital, Rob and Schultz behind me as she slipped her arm behind me.

I felt something cold hit my back as the nurse took me up (more like, dragged me) the stairs. In the back of my mind, I thought myself as drugged. I didn't know what was going on next or what was happening. I felt my vision turn black and I was unconscious.

~00~

I reminisce waking up in this white room, laying in a comfortable bed (and not a bunk back at the camp) and to too many faces peering at me and laughing. "Oh, look, gov'nor, she's 'wake now!" It was the voice of Newkirk I heard. I saw him, blurry but I could make him out, smiling at me.

"It took a while for her to wake up!" Was that Carter or LeBeau? I couldn't tell.

When I adjusted my eyes to the light (how blinding it was!), I saw all four of them clearly enough (I felt drowsy, in a way), along with a sleeping Schultz, who had gloves pushed against his ears, a broken coat hanger holding them in place over his big head. His rifle was standing up against the door next to him, and of course, he was snoring loudly. It was the same scene we have created many times in many other places to escape him.

"I swear, with G-d as my witness," I croaked, "I'll court martial you all for conspiring against an officer _with_ an officer." That was all I could make out because my voice felt so unaccustomed to talking.

"Not if I could help it," a voice came from my right. I turned my head and saw Rob smiling, his brown eyes twinkling at me as if this was some joke, and indeed this could be another one in the books for him.

"You…you…" I said with some accusations behind my tongue. "You…you…are going to get it! How dare you…?" I swung my arms, about ready to punch him, but it was a pathetic effort as my arms were useless in this endeavor. Rob laughed harder and tackled me back gently.

I felt drunk and I certainly sounded like it. My speech was sluggish and even slow and I couldn't contribute it to being unconscious and not talking. The room looked like it was spinning with the colors of a party, a whirl of a rainbow. It had almost reminded me of Burkhalter's Saturday night party some months ago.

"No, I'm not going to, Miss Saucy Tongue," Rob answered. "Just think of this as your late Christmas present that I couldn't give you last year because you…you were elsewhere."

I didn't understand what Rob said to me until I actually cleared some of my head. I closed and braced myself for an eruption of pain from my right side and shoulder…but it wasn't there. I sat up too quickly and I must have appeared anxious, for Kinch and Carter pushed me back into bed (orders?). But it didn't stop me from being curious. I looked at my left arm: the tattoo was fading, but was clearly printed on my arm still. And I was alive. I was going to _live_.

"Sir, what is that on her 'ace?" Newkirk suddenly asked out of the blue just as I was about to ask what happened here.

"Well, Newkirk," Rob said with another twinkle in his eyes, "that is called color. Now, look closely. I know it's been missing for some time, but you can now see it clearly on the Colonel's face…" And on Rob went with his joking about the slightly-pink tint on my face.

I shook my head; all I could do today was lay here and listen to all this joking, so I tried something different. "What day is it?" I finally asked, drained from playing this silly game and all the joking. I wanted to change the topic. Not to mention, I can't move, I can't get up and they expect me to stay in bed with Schultz sitting there snoring. I might as well start some small talk and not the usual gags.

"Blimey, gov'ness, it's Boxer Day!" Newkirk said with excitement.

Goodie…exchange my place with an enlisted officer for a day. No small wonder Newkirk's excited! Except, of course, there are very few officers at camp including me and Rob, so this wouldn't work. If only I was back in England…

In all of this happiness and the blabbering about who Newkirk and the others could switch places with, I closed my eyes to all this excitement and tried to get some more sleep. I might as well start. I haven't really slept since this all was kept on track.


	12. New Year's Eve

**December 31  
****Karl's Bar – 2430 Hours**

Well, I'm back here for the New Years' celebrations on what Rob and I consider a "date." The two of us ordered that the others (Newkirk, Kinch, LeBeau and Carter) be left behind and mind the fort. Any sign of danger, get out through the emergency tunnels immediately and grab us. My neck hasn't been bothering me, so I am pretty sure that there wouldn't be any trouble for these heroes. It'll be a quiet night, albeit a busy one.

The reason why I was brought here, on Karl's request (and many others as well), was for a performance, with Rob in tow! It certainly felt like old times, when we were both traveling a lot in between assignments, but I knew that this was just another darker time, a serious war and two prisoners who are suppose to be at camp sleeping this New Years' Eve. Klink threatened us with a midnight bedcheck, but somehow, it was cancelled. I mean, after seeing General Burkhalter today, I think I can see why.

I was released from the hospital yesterday because everybody there (the staff, I mean) was irritated with the guards around my room (Schultz especially) and with me because I was walking around my room all the time, with a stubborn persistence and a violent temper when they intercepted me and told me to get back into bed. They claimed to Klink that I was "well enough to leave" and discharged me. I knew what they meant: I am a great nurse, Nancy had told me once, "but a lousy patient."

I used to sneer with disgust. For some reason, I can laugh about it now. Come to think of it, Rob said the same thing as soon as I entered the barracks yesterday. All the men, of course, laughed at Miss Saucy Tongue, but I had the final word, as I always do. Of course, I heard from Carter that Karl wanted me and Rob to perform tonight. He came with Schultz two days ago, to visit me (all he had to do was tell Schultz that he was going to do some conspiring with me that he didn't want Schultz to hear, and out the door he went). However, I wanted my revenge and planned it out when Carter told me such news. And I sure got it before I dared to go out the emergency tunnel with Rob.

I dropped whatever I brought back from the hospital (just some clothes and blankets I snuck out in my knapsack) and went in the direction of the Colonel's quarters, where Rob was standing in the doorway grinning at me. So, I started being just the suck-up Rob was to me a few days ago. I went up to Rob, held him, put my head on his shoulder and then gave him a full kiss on the lips in front of everyone. And of course, there was whistling and cat-calls. I didn't care, just as long as I was getting my satisfaction.

Rob kissed me back, miraculously enough, giving me some satisfaction. I had strangely missed that bizarre sensation all this time. Screw the personal-feelings-last rule: I loved his strange and familiar touch.

Rob let go finally after a few minutes and said, "I haven't had that in a long time."

I smiled my best grin and said, "Maybe this would change your mind." And I hit him in the check and all everyone heard was a loud and fulfilling _smack_. All the men in the barracks were shocked beyond belief by this action. They were especially incredulous as Rob laughed at me, seeing it as a joke on him. Rob knew that I was getting back at him for sticking me in a hospital. And the only way to do such was to get close and personal. He understood completely. That was why he laughed.

I strolled out of his way, turning around with my heel. I went out the door of the barracks, intent on taking a walk around the camp _alone_. As soon as I went through the doorway, Rob called out to me, "What was that for again?" as if he wanted to reassure himself that I did it for the reasons that he was thinking about.

I turned back and smiled at him again, my best seductive smirk. I said meekly, "Oh, that? I have been waiting to do that to you for years. I just had the chance to do it now." I shrugged my shoulders and went out for my walk.

On the way out, I heard laughter from the barracks and the many comic stories I heard Rob posing to cover up this embarrassing situation. I was trying hard not to laugh too, but it was hard. I have never felt so liberated in my life. I was free from pain and ready for laugher again, which I think is the best medicine for me. I've had enough. And tonight, I am hoping for the invasions the Allied Forces are planning for 1944 and that the war will be over soon.

~00~

Tonight was a special night, for it was the reunion of me and Rob, onstage, for the first time since the beginning of the war in 1939. I was excited, _very_ excited. The sets were perfect, our music was pristine and the audience loved it. The very last song we played was "Highwayman," which had everyone slow-dancing and I was very tempted to do the same with Rob if we weren't the ones playing. If only Father was here, for it is one of his favorite songs, then it'll be perfect. I haven't heard from him in a while and I pray he's all right and well now.

You know, it's been easier to write now that Rob took me to the infirmary. He saved my life, but I'll never say anything yet. I'm almost in glee at the idea of liberation from this pain, for it really does feel as if I am really free and not in a prison camp full of men still. I feel some careless spirit escape me and a newer, exultant one enter. I suddenly don't care that I am eyed at all times, that Burkhalter is hurt about my love affair or that the men still play their silly pranks on me just to see some skin. I am not the dangerous woman I came into camp to be but a more stimulated one at that.

By the way, Karl just came up to me a few minutes ago. He said that Webber has reached England safely (the word had just come in via his radio in his back room). Webber has sent me and the men of Stalag 13 many thanks (and we should thank him in return for helping us so much). But Karl was also puzzled about something Webber sent to me though, a package he sent before he came out of Germany.

"Colonel, I don't even know why he has even bothered to send these," he said as he handed over a carton of cigarettes, the box damp from crossing the many Underground channels we have and a million snow storms Germany has always anticipated. I laughed harder than I have been in a long time because of how man cigarettes there were. The cigarettes I'll keep as another memory (if Newkirk doesn't find them first), kept in the bottom of my footlocker, not as a painful memory, but as a tense time when I could have smoked so many cigarettes until I died and kept myself from screaming because I didn't.

It is nearly midnight now, 2355 hours, and it's been getting more and more crowded as time goes on. I'd better find Rob for I want to be with him as the clock strikes midnight and give him a long kiss, better than the one from yesterday. He still owes me a dance, too. Karl is going to have more people coming in to play music for the second set and right about then, I'd be more than willing to let the past be the past and focus on the future as Rob takes me into his arms. I can forgive him. He was concerned for me, he brought me there and that was that. We saved each other for the next year of war…if there is really another…and got each other out of the clutches of the Krauts for now.

And tonight is the night I ask him for –


End file.
